


how to kickstart one (1) wizard memory

by martialartist816



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Worship, Bottom Tony, Character Study, Fix-It, Fluff, Getting Together, Humor, IronStrange, M/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Canon Fix-It, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Smut, Temporary Amnesia, backloaded fluff, bc when i write for tony i kinda lose myself idk, bc who wouldnt wanna worship tony, frontloaded angst, i mention jesus a lot for some reason, if you read this youll find out just how much i love thor odinson, low stakes, magical sex, operation get tony a boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 09:16:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16323449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martialartist816/pseuds/martialartist816
Summary: Why would Stephen Strange confess his love for Tony Stark and then promptly forget he'd done so upon being saved, you ask?Great question. The answer is because the universe hates Tony.





	1. Prologue

Out of fourteen million six hundred and five possible outcomes, their chances of winning were slim. So slim that Tony felt panic well up inside him, the kind that made his hands twitch with the need for a mechanical distraction or else the metal bits in place of his heart would flurry out of control. He pushed it back down, though, because panic would have to wait until he knew all the information Stephen had access to. Information for planning, planning for execution, execution for victory. With as few sacrifices as possible.

Having to take a shrapnel of his own armor to the side was, apparently, part of the plan. Shrapnel, once again, managed to be the thing that threatened his life and saved it at the same time. Funny how things came full circle like that.

He tried to get on his feet, only to be stopped by hot white pain screaming in his abdomen. An attempt to not let any sound out was made, but everyone around him heard his weak moan and harsh breathing. Stephen rested a heavy hand on his shoulder to keep him from moving again.

“Don’t strain yourself. You don’t know how bad your internal bleeding could be,” he instructed.

“Jesus, what are you? My doctor?” Tony said through his clenched jaw. “Oh, wait.”

The light gravity on that sad excuse for a planet did nothing to alleviate how heavy his body felt. It was hard to even out his breathing, not panicking, but thinking about not panicking along with all this pain did not help the mounting panic in his chest.

“Give him some space, everyone,” Stephen said to the others, doing nothing on his own part, Tony might have observed, to remove himself from his position hovering over him.

“We would need a ship to give him space.” Everyone’s head turned toward the green-and-magenta-skinned dude with impressive man-titties, who was pointing up toward the sky and wearing a laughably serious expression.

“No, Drax.” Missouri sighed and motioned for his team to follow him as he wandered away from Tony. The group trailed behind him, and Peter remained a few steps away, fidgeting with his hands.

“We need to talk,” Stephen said to Tony, head close to his ear, voice low and sad. He opened his mouth to say something else, but his eyes shifted over to Peter.

“‘We’ meaning not you, kid.” Tony nodded with his head for Peter to join the others out of earshot. After a few mopey protests-- _c’mon, Mr. Stark, you said I’m an Avenger now!_ \--he reluctantly left Tony and the magician alone.

“You wouldn’t happen to have an abra-cadabra that has the same effect as morphine, would you?” Tony tried. He was used to fighting through pain, but it was usually one battle at a time and not the whole damn war at once.

“No, unfortunately.” Stephen had shifted so he was sitting, still kind of hovering too close, next to Tony. One of his arms rested behind Tony to hold him upright, the other draped over his arm in case he tried to stand again. Tony couldn’t remember a time he was cuddled so gently by a perfect stranger, mostly because he was never sober when it happened.

“How about some opium tablets hiding in that magnificent cape?”

“No, Tony--”

“This is all part of your plan, right?” Tony interrupted, talking his way out of distress, breathless. “At least I didn’t have to feel myself get stabbed fourteen million times. When is it going to start feeling like we’re actually _winning_?”

“You just have to trust me.”

“You’re asking for a lot, considering the entire planet of Earth is trusting _me_ to protect it. Excuse me, but I fail to see how giving Thanos the exact thing he needed to destroy the universe is the way we save it.”

“I saw the future. I know what’s at stake, and just like you, I’m trying to save as many lives as possible.” Tony caught a glimpse of Stephen’s face, and he looked pained as he spoke. Tony suspected it wasn’t just from the bleeding gash in his forehead.

“And how exactly are we going to do that?”

Stephen pursed his lips. “I can’t tell you that.”

“I took a knife through my spleen to save all of you and I’m still not privy to your Jedi knowledge?”

“Try to stay with me for two minutes, please.” Even in dire situations, Tony could irritate people. He considered it his one true superpower. “If you manage to pull this off, the chances won’t be a hopeless fourteen million-to-one anymore.”

“Just me specifically? Or ‘you’ meaning ‘you all’? I feel like there should be a ‘we’ in there somewhere.”

“It has to be you. You’re the only one I saw. I know you’re capable of saving _trillions_ of lives. Every single soul will survive. That means absolutely no one will die, as long as this reality I saw is the one we are granted.”

“You asked me to follow, Doc, but I don’t think I can. You’re telling me it’s possible to win this son of a bitch without losing a single life?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Stephen said, looking at Tony with so much pity and sorrow that it threw him off, “but yes.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“It would be too hard for you to understand.” Stephen shook his head.

“You might be used to thinking you’re the smartest person in the room, but that’s no mean feat when I’m in said room. Spill.” Tony raised his eyebrows like that would be enough for Stephen to divulge all of his magical secrets.

“I don’t mean it like that. You should know how dangerous it is to reveal what the future looks like to someone in the present day. Haven’t you ever seen _Big_?”

“First Peter with the pop culture references, now you--” Tony halted his train of thought and blinked a few times. “Wait. Have _you_ ever seen _Big_? I don’t think that’s referencing what you think it’s referencing.”

“It seemed like the only way to get you to pay attention,” Stephen muttered condescendingly. “But you understand my point. I can’t tell you how to win without jeopardizing the natural flow of time.”

“I’m speaking to the Dalai Lama,” Tony remarked with a roll of his eyes. “Your wisdom is so advanced that it’s not even useful.”

Instead of hitting back with another quip, Stephen gently touched under Tony’s chin and met his eyes earnestly. He could feel the tremor in his fingers.

“It’s going to hurt.” The sincerity in his smooth voice made Tony reel back into the moment and think seriously on what he meant. “And it’s going to take a long time. The way you win, Tony, is by never giving up.”

And just like that, Buddha was back.

“Then the universe can rest easy. If I was a quitter, I’d be dead twenty years since.”

He scowled through his own joke. When he brushed Stephen’s hand away and made to stand again, gritting his teeth against the pain, Stephen stopped him with a firm grasp on his forearm.

“Don’t…” He let out a shaky sigh. “Like I said, don’t strain yourself.”

Tony looked at him, a frown on his face, but his expression softened when he remembered who Stephen was. A fallen doctor, a master of the mystic arts, a protector of innocent lives. They were all on the same side, and there was no use arguing with a man who knew the future. No matter how stubbornly he wanted to keep it a secret.

“There’s something else you should know,” Stephen said, his free hand coming to grasp Tony’s other wrist. He held him steadfastly like that, allowing only a few inches between their foreheads. Stephen’s head lowered as he spoke in a tender voice.

“Because I respect you, Tony,” he began, “and because it concerns you, you deserve to know this one thing about our future.”

“If I’m going to die, just spit it out. It’d be no surprise to me or anyone here.”

When Stephen inhaled and exhaled once, Tony felt it flutter across his face.

“I saw a great many futures for this world. In each reality, there was at least one thing that was different from the last. Some were insignificant, like the color shirt someone wore. Some were much, much bigger than that. The cause of the next war, the number of children someone has, the age at which they die… Things like that. They were all variable depending on which path we choose at this very moment.” Stephen’s hands tightened on Tony’s wrists. As he held them, the shaking slowed and nearly stopped.

“Not to sound insensitive, but is there a Sparknotes version of this?”

“There was something that stayed pretty damn constant amidst all those changes.” Their foreheads pressed fully against each other. It seemed like Stephen was leaning on him for support. His eyes were closed. “In virtually every future where you and I both survive, we fall in love.”

Not very many things could brag that they rendered Tony Stark speechless, but this one had to take the cake. He sat there, looking at Stephen, whose eyes had opened again. Stephen’s face was all business, eyebrows pressed into a hard line, one that matched his lips. His stormy eyes switched back and forth between Tony’s, waiting patiently for him to register the words and form some kind of response. The natural dark orange glow of the desolate planet seemed to only brighten Stephen’s gaze. Tony found no evidence of a joke or a trick in his expression, and when the realization hit him, he cleared his throat and did what he did best. He played it off like no big fucking deal.

“One step at a time, okay, Romeo? We’re dealing with a lot of ‘if’s right now. Like if I don’t die from internal bleeding and if this plan of yours succeeds and if God decides we’re worthy of one happily ever after out of fourteen million. _If_ all that happens, and if there are any decent restaurants still standing in New York by the time it’s all over, then I’ll take you out on a date.”

“It’s okay to be surprised. If I hadn’t seen it for myself, I would have laughed at the idea.” Stephen was smiling, and given this new information that was resting heavily on Tony’s heart, he decided he was handsome and wouldn’t mind falling for him if destiny made it so.

“Careful, you’ll damage my ego. Oh, wait, that’s impossible.” Stephen laughed lightly, and it was a welcome sound in this otherwise hazy wasteland.

He turned his head when he heard footsteps and saw everyone else making their way back over to regroup. Stephen pulled away from supporting Tony, but not before whispering something just soft enough for him to hear.

“Remember what I told you.”


	2. Chapter 2

Tony remembered everything.

He remembered what it felt like to have Peter disappear between his fingers. One second he was there-- _not him, not him, anyone but him, take me instead you worthless God--_ and then he was gone. He remembered being able to ignore all of his bodily pain because the anguish in his heart was too much to bear. He remembered rocking back and forth, holding a hand over his mouth to stop the sobs from pushing themselves out into the open.

The only other person with him on that stupid fucking God-forsaken planet was the robot woman. Could he even call her a person if she was a robot? She said nothing to him for a long time. Mourning, she stood perfectly still. So still for so long that Tony thought for a minute that she had shut down completely. Maybe she had. That’s what he felt like, anyway. Her black eyes were empty, her jaw set.

The sun set on Titan. The temperature dropped, and Tony’s body shook hard enough from the cold and from the shock that his broken armor clattered. He jumped from the touch of a small hand on his shoulder.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

It was the robot. Tony learned not long after that her name was Nebula.

“You have to get out of here,” she told him, her voice dark and quiet. “Go home.”

“Right. I was just hanging out because I wanted a little vacation,” he spat. “Look around you, sweetheart. I need a ship to leave.”

“I have one,” she replied, equally as venomous. Tony suspected that it wasn’t because of his attitude, for once. “Take mine.”

“It’s big enough for two?” _Big enough to make it all the way back to Earth?_

“You’ll have everything you need.”

Tony slowly stood up. Nebula watched him struggle and made no move to help.

“What about you?”

“I’m not going.” Her eyes quickly flicked to the ground, away from Tony, blinking quickly.

He remembered the way she talked about the other woman, about Gamora. When Nebula put together that Thanos had killed her, the anger she responded with was unmatched. Her pain born from losing her sister was the kind with which Tony was not familiar.

“Don’t you have somewhere you need to be? Like home?”

“There is no home for me.” Nebula’s hands curled into fists. “I have nothing, no one to go back to.”

“You think my situation is any fucking better? Going back to Earth and seeing which of my friends is a pile of dust is… the last thing I wanna do.”

Steve, Rhodey, Bruce, Fury, Nat, Pepper… He had no way of guessing who would be there to greet him when he returned. It was entirely possible that none of them would be, thanks to Thanos’ mystical ‘partial’ Judgement Day. If Tony could ask that glorified purple bodybuilder one thing, he’d like to know why everyone he cared about had to die when he was forced to stay alive and feel the crushing weight of their absence.

Then he remembered what Stephen told him. He remembered all of it.

Eyes closed, he breathed through his nose and told himself that the grief would have to wait.

With one hand holding his abdominal wound, he grabbed Nebula by the arm and pulled her over the sea of debris, toward the ship.

“What are you doing?” She tried to shake him off, but Tony held tight. If he had to fly all the way back to Earth, he sure as hell wasn’t going to do it alone.

He didn’t answer. Once they hobbled onto the modest ship, Nebula took the pilot seat and powered off the ground. Tony didn’t bother to take one last glance at Titan as the planet got smaller and became one with the stars.

From his spot in the co-pilot’s chair, he studied Nebula’s face and form. Despite her small frame, he could tell she was a dangerous weapon. Resilient. A survivor.

“I can fix that for you,” Tony said after a while, pointing to her broken foot. Her metal bits were shattered at the ankle, and the appendage clung to the rest of her body uselessly.

“I’m perfectly capable of fixing myself.” She didn’t put in the effort to look at him or her ankle.

“I’ve got a nice shop back at home. You’ll like it. I might have some spare parts for you to play with. My bots will be excited to make a new friend.”

“Don’t expect me to stay.” And she didn’t.

Not even two seconds after dropping Tony ungracefully on the Headquarters helicopter pad, she turned the ship around and shot into the stratosphere. Tony did not know what planet she would go to, or if she intended to just fly until she was out of gas and left to drift in space forever.

He could mull it over once he checked himself into a hospital.

…

He made his first call to Steve, and it was almost easy to forget why they had stopped talking in the first place.

The sound of his voice on the other line sent a wave of relief crashing into Tony. The wave crested when Steve relayed the short, short list of those who were left. Tony went silent on the phone for an extended, static moment.

Stephen told him they would win, and Tony was going to fix it. He was going to fix it for everyone.

“We’ll meet you at Headquarters,” Steve said, muted, lost. “We need a plan.”

“Yes,” Tony said. “Yes, we do.”

…

It was hard to get moving. Tony came back to Earth ready to continue the fight, but faced with the emptiness of the new Avengers facility, it was like a punch right in the throat. He spent most of his time in his shop, distracting himself by trying to recreate the tech that Nebula was made out of. He’d observed her closely enough to know that she wasn’t like Vision. She had no organic parts.

Cap and the others wouldn’t be arriving until the next day, coming all the way from Wakanda. Tony had to occupy the hours, but each ticking second was the like the ringing of a metal cell door being slammed shut. He felt himself going mad with loss, and despite how hard he tried to think about literally anything else besides his current situation, there was no way he could avoid thinking about someone who was no longer alive. The pressure to do something was killing him, and it was even more frustrating with the fact that he didn’t know what the fuck was needed of him in order to make everything magically better again.

The waiting was unbearable. The grief was insurmountable.

He declined all press interviews. The world was in a state of absolute shit, and the people wanted to know that their greatest defender was still kicking. Tony couldn’t offer that. He wanted to tell reporters that what the world needed the most was a quiet time of reflection and rejuvenation. _You can’t rely on Tony Stark to solve every problem. Humans are good at bouncing back on their own. Tony Stark can’t be your hero forever. Tony Stark almost didn’t make it back this time around._ He made his message clear by staying out of the newspapers.

…

A million years--twenty four hours--later, the jet finally landed. Tony waited at the hangar door, and Bruce was there in a flash, hugging him fiercely. Natasha kissed his cheek, and Steve nodded at him from a few feet away, a grim expression on his face.

The plan was haphazard at best. It took the ‘guess and check’ method from fifth grade algebra to the extreme, and no one, not even Steve, could fake confidence that it would work. Only Tony allowed himself to feel a sliver of hope because of Stephen. Stephen knew what he was doing, and Tony had to trust that. He had no other choice, unless he wanted to slip and spiral into a severe depression that might actually kill him this time.

The plan was, essentially, to shoot Thor out into space with his ugly ax and hope that he bumped into Thanos sooner rather than later. Once they pinned down his location, the rest of the team would meet Thor there and play a little game of Infinity Gauntlet Tag. Hopefully by getting Thanos distracted, one Avenger could sneak in close and pick the stones off his hand one by one. Those Avengers, specifically, had to be Steve, Hulk, or Thor since they stood the best chances of touching the stones without vaporizing immediately.

Needless to say, their odds at pulling it off felt a lot slimmer than fourteen million to one.

Alone with his mortal enemy--insomnia--Tony couldn’t stop his mind from racing. No matter how exhausted he was, he couldn’t close his eyes for three minutes. Over the past week and a half of being back on Earth, he slept for maybe fourteen hours.

He stared at the wall of the kitchen at Headquarters, stirring together Jack Daniels with a splash of caffeine-free Diet Coke. His head ached like a mother, and there was a constant throbbing in his stomach where his wounds were still healing. He gave up on drugs because the strongest thing in this useless facility was Tylenol. Maybe he could ask Nat if she had any spare Valium.

Tony sipped at the drink and thought about earlier in the day when he had walked into a sparring room where Thor was beating his frustrations into an unfortunate robot dummy. He was wearing his full armor, red cape and all, and Tony hated the way his chest tightened in fleeting hope when he thought it was the red of Stephen’s cloak.

Even with a billion things on his mind, Tony thought most constantly about Stephen. His confession of would-be love back on Titan left Tony unsettled. Not unsettled because he didn’t think he could see the magician that way, but because things felt so dismal that he wasn’t sure if he’d ever have the chance to see if a love could blossom between them.

Tony never considered the option of “falling in love.” It seemed tedious and time-consuming. A lot of people would comment that Stark could never love anyone else because he was too busy loving himself, and they wouldn’t be very far off the mark. Deep in the most insecure places of Tony’s mind, he figured it was more likely that he loved himself so much because he knew no one else ever would.

How far into the future did Stephen see? Did he see them going on a few dates? Moving in together, adopting some dogs? Maybe there were a few wedding bands exchanged. Did they grow old together? Something like that sounded much more romantic than what Tony was used to. A storybook fantasy.

Tony rapidly placed his glass, half emptied, back down in the counter with a loud clicking sound. His chest hurt again, thinking about how much he wanted something sappy and simple like that. Everything in his life was speeding past him a lightning pace. He wanted it all to slow down. He wanted to stop and smell the carnations. Losing nearly everyone he cared for was like a slap to the face. Life was worth nothing if he didn’t have people to love by his side.

He was willing to fight to bring them all back, even to his last breath.

…

Tony researched Carol. He read up on every file he could find about her. Steve insisted that she was a hero, that she was powerful enough to help them win and would sacrifice anything to save all the lives of those who disappeared.

Tony wasn’t sure he could trust her at first.

Red flag: If she was so powerful and good, then where was she a month ago? Two years ago in Sokovia? In New York? Tony refused to believe that the answer to their prayers would come served up on a silver platter like that.

She was friendly and professional, but not too serious. She never took Tony up on his humorously intrusive banter, but she was always a team player and gave surprisingly good advice. Her wits in battle seemed top-tier. Everyone in the group fell easily in step behind her.

Oh, and she could fly.

Okay, so maybe Wonder Woman was the right addition the team needed. Still, Tony instructed FRIDAY to monitor the security cameras and make sure no suspicious activity was to be had in his facility by this beautiful and impossibly perfect newcomer.

They all trained together. It was Steve’s idea to practice working as a unit. To Tony’s surprise, Steve readily handed over the command to Carol and took shotgun when giving the orders. He really trusted in her ability to lead, which forced Tony to reluctantly follow in everyone else’s footsteps. He listened to Carol, and her team management proved to be much less shoddy than Steve’s used to be. Tony was sore annoyed to admit it, but she was good.

The time came sooner than expected, but they were ready. They found him. The Avengers boarded a ship that would transport them at the speed of light to a distant, flourishing, uninhabited planet. Uninhabited, of course, save one titan.

Tony made no goodbyes. Anyone he cared about was on that ship with him. He looked at all of their faces one by one, feeling the burning fuel for revenge fill up the ship like a tangible object. They were ready. Tony was ready. Every last one of them might die on this mission, but it was the most important mission of their lives.

When they landed on the planet, Tony thought about Stephen.

Their odds told them they wouldn’t stand a chance. Tony figured it didn’t really matter at this point.

Thanos greeted them in an open, green prairie.

“I knew my day of reckoning would find me,” he said.

“This is your retribution,” Steve told him.

…

It was Thor who did it. Thor got a hold of the power stone, plucked it right off the gauntlet like a grape from the vine. The stone fused perfectly into the hilt of his ax, like it was made for that specific purpose. With the other Avengers holding the titan down, Thor raised his ax and rained the weapon down. The blade sliced through Thanos’ neck with a sick cracking sound and silenced him forever.

Tony expected fireworks, applause, people to bleed from the bushes and congratulate them on a job well done. Maybe Jesus would flutter down from the heavens and give them a trophy or something. He expected to wake up in bed, ripped from the happy ending dream that was too good to be true. Instead there was a cool breeze, swaying grass, and nothing spectacular.

The power stone sizzled inside the ax. Thor breathed heavily, not moving a trembling muscle for a long time. They all stood over Thanos’ lifeless body.

“You’ve paid for it,” Thor said, gruff and broken.

“We’re not done here.” Carol stepped forward and slid the gauntlet off of Thanos’ arm. “Hand me the stone.”

She offered her palm to Thor. They met eyes, and Thor still didn’t move. No one moved.

“This wasn’t part of the plan,” Steve said, narrowing his gaze at her.

“It’s true,” Tony chimed in. “None of us thought we’d make it this far. In all honesty, I figured we’d be dead by now.”

“There are still lives to be saved,” Carol reminded them, looking Tony square in the face.

He didn’t dare hope.

Thor righted his posture and strode over to Carol. With an unreadable expression, he separated the stone from his ax and placed it right in her hand. She watched the way it glowed and pulsed in her palm.

Her thin arm slid right into the oversized gauntlet. The knuckle pulled the power stone like a magnet, reattaching itself, and Tony felt a dreadful sense of dejavu. As Carol flexed her fingers, the gauntlet shrunk and wrapped around her arm to fit perfectly. It almost suited her, though it was maybe a bit flashy for her taste. She raised her arm.

“Slow down there, sparky. What are you doing?” Tony subconsciously aimed his repulsors in her direction.

She looked at him again, looked at each of their faces, with determination forming a line between her lips. “I’m righting all the wrongs this monster has done.”

She snapped her fingers, and that was it.

The Avengers stood silently, swiveling their heads around to look at each other, waiting for something to happen. On everyone’s minds, Tony could tell, was the itching fear that more of them would start to diminish into a pile of ash.

Carol removed the gauntlet and crushed it between her bare hands. The reinforced gold shattered like a snowball, and all that remained were the stones. Carol gathered them up in her hands and stored them in her pocket.

While everyone else stood there, dumbstruck, Tony’s chest began to ache. When the realization hit him, he took a sharp inhale through his nose and gripped Steve’s shoulder tightly.

“We need to get to Titan. _Now_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't feel so good ms danvers


	3. Chapter 3

“Mr. Stark.”

Tony crushed Peter to his chest, reminding himself that it was real and there was no need to panic, no need to hurt. He held one hand at the back of Peter’s head, trapping him close so he couldn’t see the moisture in his eyes. Peter, on the flip side, sobbed like a child and clutched Tony’s jacket.

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re back, you’re fine, it’s over…” Tony breathed over and over again, reminding Peter as well as himself that this was a happy time and not a sad one.

The other Avengers waited back near the ship, watching the reunion and eyeing the others who were also brought back. In the back of his mind, Tony predicted how they would all tease him for acting so weak and emotional for a kid about whom he spent 97% of his time complaining. Oh, he could hear it already: _Wow, who knew Tony would make such a great father?_

In the moment, though, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Peter was back and he was breathing and they would go home and Tony would never ever let him be Spider-Man again.

“Home,” he said out loud. “We’re gonna get you home.”

Peter pulled away from the hug, smiling through his tears and wiping his face with the heel of his palm.

“Aunt May… is gonna kill me.”

“No, she’s going to kill _me_. Now get on that ship. We’re getting off this orange shithole pronto.”

Tony watched Peter wave at the Avengers-- _Hey, guys, long time no see. Don’t worry. Mr. Stark told me we’re all on the same side now._ \--and scurry up the ramp.

“Tony.”

Standing behind him was Stephen, cape billowing and the sun shining behind him, looking like fucking heaven on earth. He was smiling like Tony was his hero. Tony ignored all the same happiness that surged within him when he hugged Peter again and walked right up to Stephen, jabbing a finger to his chest.

“Don’t you ever… fucking do that again.”

Stephen’s goddamn smile got bigger. He took Tony’s hand away from his chest and held warmly it between both of his.

“I knew you could do it.” He let go and passed Tony, making his way up into the ship.

Steve stepped forward and walked up to the others, the ones who called themselves the Guardians of the Galaxy. They looked sad and lost, but for some reason glad to see Tony again.

“You should all come with us,” Steve said to them. “There’s a certain raccoon on Earth who’s been missing you terribly.”

“You too, Steve,” Nat called from her place on the ramp. Almost everyone had already gone inside. “We have some friends to welcome back.”

…

Humans. They bounced back. Just like Tony knew they would.

Life on Earth more or less resumed to the same state it had been in before the giant purple Teletubby came in and shat on everything. The Guardians of the Galaxy left after a week, taking their sentient raccoon and tree with them, preferring to live life out between the stars rather than on a populated and prosperous planet. Thor stayed, giving the lighthearted excuse that Midgard was his only home and the Avengers were his only family, which, in all honesty, depressed Tony more than it should have because, Jesus, the guy didn’t deserve any of what was handed to him in the past few months.

The Avengers all stayed at Headquarters, even Bucky. Wanda tried to leave multiple times, but Steve convinced her to stay. Peter spent a few days with May, but Tony suggested rather insistently that he come to Headquarters until further notice so he could be watched around the clock and not wandering the streets of New York City in search of more bad guys who might eventually succeed in hurting him more than Tony was comfortable with.

“You’re welcome,” Fury said, referring to Carol.

As much as Tony wanted to deny all press interviews, he knew he had to give a statement or two about a hopeful future for the planet and for intergalactic peace as a whole. He tried to make it as optimistic as possible and avoided questions like “What happened?” and “How will you prevent another mass execution in the future?”

Tony just put on his best suit, his even best-er smile, and talked his way out of the press room. All he wanted to do for the next five years is seal himself up in his shop and let robots occupy his brain so he didn’t have to think about space aliens or rainbow gemstones.

Out on the street in the heart of New York City, Tony felt like he could finally breathe. Instead of calling for his car, he walked to a Middle Eastern joint on the corner and bought some falafel to go. He walked some more, eating from the greasy bag until he found himself at the front door of the only Avenger who refused to live at Headquarters.

Not bothering to knock, Tony entered the Sanctum like it was his own home and paused to wipe his feet that the welcome mat.

“I’ve heard about home-visiting doctors, but this feels more like visiting the doctor in his home,” he mumbled to the dusty commons.

Stephen appeared right before him.

“Are you here for business, or did you come just to touch more artifacts?” He didn’t sound pissed, just mildly annoyed. Tony hadn’t even been there for twenty seconds. That must’ve been a record.

He held out the half-emptied bag of street falafel. “I know I promised the nicest restaurant in New York City, but this’ll just have to do until we get there.”

Stephen furrowed his eyebrows at the food offering, making Tony stand there with his arm extended for an unnecessary amount of time before accepting it and taking a bite.

“I’m certain I don’t know what you mean,” he said after he was done chewing. “Seriously, why are you here?”

“Was in the area. Decided to pop in and say hello, though I guess ‘popping in’ is more your specialty. You know, see how you’re doing post-resurrection.” Tony wandered the floor, feeling Stephen follow him around with a tangible urge to remind him not to touch anything. He wanted to, just to see Stephen lose his cool. “Tell me what it’s like to die.”

“I told you.” Tony could _hear_ the sigh wanting to flush out of him. “It wasn’t death. It was more like a prison. A purgatory.”

“What makes a better headline? _Tony Stark Brings Four Billion People Back to Life_ , or _Tony Stark Poofs Back Four Billion People From Soul Vacation_?”

Tony reached for a glowing ball on a tall stick, but before his fingers could make contact, the room spun. A whooshing sound rushed past his ears, and the second he processed what was happening, he was sitting in a plush leather armchair in a completely different room of the Sanctum.

Stephen sat across from him, holding a folded newspaper.

“Do that again, and you’ll be wiping up falafel soup from between your ancient dusty floorboards.” Tony’s stomach fluttered, and he took a steadying breath. “Warn a guy.”

Stephen ignored him.

“Speaking of the press.” He turned the newspaper around so Tony could read the front page-- _Aliens ARE Real, Earth Nearly Defenseless_. “I wish you would keep intergalactic turbulence between yourself and your teammates. The rest of the world doesn’t need to know how often their lives are actually in danger.”

“First of all, we’re unenthusiastic coworkers, not teammates. The Avengers aren’t exactly the Boy Scouts they used to be. Second, I can’t keep things from the press. They know better than to believe me when I say everything’s fine while trying to bury the ashes under the living room rug.”

Tony could have cringed at his word choice. He watched Stephen’s face, which was just as neutral as usual.

“You’re good at running your mouth. I’m sure you can feed them stories that won’t leave their children lying awake at night.”

“The people have a right to know about the things that can and _will_ affect their lives.”

“Sometimes discretion is beneficial.” Stephen leaned back in his chair, elbow on the armrest. His gloved hand hung in the air, making Stephen the picture of arrogance that was only okay when Tony painted it. “People don’t need to know about magic, about the access to other realms that sorcerers like myself have, things like that. We do our job to protect them from unseen threats, and life is carries on as if nothing at all was wrong. Public and private spheres. It would be too complicated for them to understand.”

That sounded familiar. Tony raised an eyebrow.

“Even if you are right--and don’t worry, you’re not--it would be impossible to spin lies to the press about the disappearance of half the population. That kind of thing is a little difficult to ignore. They want answers.”

Stephen tilted his head to the side and rested two fingers tiredly against his temple. “This is a conversation for another day, Tony.”

“To my own surprise, I agree.” Tony stood and straightened his jacket. He thought if he didn’t get it dry-cleaned soon, it would smell like Dumbledore’s library for the rest of eternity.

He had to take the stairs, finding that Stephen had actually portaled them to a private room on the second floor. As Tony reached the last step, Stephen’s hand closed around his wrist and prevented him from breezing through the front door. Turning around, Tony found Stephen’s intense slate eyes meeting his own. That look made the arm that Stephen held tingle with warmth.

“Just promise me you’ll choose your words carefully when taking interviews. The world is in a delicate state right now.”

Tony decided not to enlighten him with the fact that he was planning on returning to Headquarters and not facing another camera for at least seven years.

“You’ve seen me on TV, Doc. You know I know how to smooze the reporters.”

…

The next time Tony went to see Stephen, it was for strictly professional purposes. He had an excuse.

“Fury sent _you_ to come convince _me_ to live for an indefinite amount of time at your little superhero hideout?”

Stephen had offered Tony a cup of tea upon his arrival. Tony accepted, although he thought it tasted more like hot water seasoned with dirt than an actual drink. He sipped it and raised his eyebrows, hoping distaste for the flavor wasn’t plastered all over his face like it was on his palate.

“I’m the best man for the job, naturally, since you and I get along so well.” Seeing Stephen’s understandably skeptical reaction, Tony added, “His words, not mine.”

“I suppose it makes sense considering what little I’ve interacted with your companions-”

“Please don’t call them that,” Tony interrupted with a roll of his eyes. Stephen had an affinity for referring to his overcharged coworkers as anything but. “Look, if it was up to me, I would have sent Pete here to bring you back.”

“The teenager?”

“The kid has a knack for getting under your skin, but like, in a good way. It’s impossible to say no to him. He looks at you with those kicked puppy eyes, and suddenly you’re giving him whatever he asks for. He’s addictive.” Tony swirled the tea under his nose like a martini, the smell then reminding him that he was not, in fact, drinking a martini. He didn’t conceal the slight wrinkle of his nose, and he set the ceramic cup down on the coffee table between them. “I’m convinced that if he was here right now, you’d already be portaling yourself upstate.”

“Is he already settled with the rest of them?”

“He makes friends easily.”

“He must be something special if he has Tony Stark wrapped so tightly around his finger.” A hint of a smile--or is that a smirk?--made its way to Stephen’s face.

“You met him. Tell me every word out of his mouth wasn’t as charming as it was annoying.”

“Right.” Stephen’s gaze drifted off to the side, far away, as his eyebrows lowered and scrunched together. His mouth, where it had been a lighthearted grin before, pressed into a hard line of concentration.

“What? Kids not your thing?”

“It’s not that. I’m just having trouble remembering.”

“I get it. Pete is a bit forgettable. Kinda blends in like a fly on the wall, or I guess a spider would be more appropriate.” Tony’s fingers laced together over his bent knee.

He waited with raised eyebrows from Stephen to say something back, but he only held his faraway gaze at some point off to the side and sipped his tea absently. Tony could hear the gears turning in his head, creaky from lack of use and proper lubrication.

“I might…” Stephen finally started. “I might have a bigger problem than I previously realized. I can’t even conjure Peter’s face no matter how hard I try.” His eyes snapped over to Tony. “How long were the three of us together?”

“What? Do you mean just on Titan, or starting from the minute I told him to chase you and that gray, wrinkly sea sponge from space? Because that’s a hefty chunk of time. From the invasion in New York to the final showdown with Thanos, I’d say it was about,” Tony waved his hand noncommittally, “a day and a half.”

Tony’s answer, evidently, didn’t put Stephen’s mind at ease. He leaned forward in his chair, tea now also forgotten, and rubbed his fingers over his temples.

“That doesn’t make much sense at all.”

In a flash, he was out of his seat and standing at one of the infinite dusty bookshelves in the Sanctum, poring over a random tome.

“I say a day and a half in human-clock time. Obviously we can’t count days in space, but you get the jist of what I mean.”

“Will you just.” Stephen’s hand flourished, and Tony felt a breeze rush over his body. “I’m trying to think.”

The next time Tony tried to open his mouth, he couldn’t. His fingers came up to feel what duct tape Stephen must’ve magicked on him, but there was nothing. It was like his lips were glued shut, and he gave an indignant groan in the wizard’s direction. Stephen didn’t even blink.

“How I wish for a spell that could revive lost memories, but no such thing exists. I remember being on a ship, I remember landing on Titan, going to see possible futures for us, but everything is blurry around the edges. There’s no detail to anything.”

Stephen snapped his book shut and looked at Tony. “I can feel the missing places in my mind.”

_Memories aren’t the only thing you’re missing up there_ , Tony tried to say, but it came out only as sarcastic sounding mumbles.

Through his stress and confusion, Stephen managed to smile again. He replaced the book on the shelf and strode back over, his cloak swaying with his arms. “I think I’m going to use this spell on you more often. Harmless, ingenious, and wonderfully effective.”

Tony’s mouth may have been incapacitated, but his hands weren’t. He raised a middle finger to Stephen, who laughed heartily. But he did wave his hand again, and Tony was able to stretch his mouth open like a horse with its bit taken out.

“Congratulations, you found my biggest weakness. If I don’t have my words, I have nothing.”

Stephen’s amusement still twinkled in his eyes. _You can’t look at me like that when I’m trying to be annoyed with you_.

“Back to our present dilemma,” Stephen said.

“ _Your_ present dilemma,” Tony corrected. “I still remember everything perfectly fine. Maybe a little too fine.”

“Then you can help me fill in the gaps.”

“Only if you agree to come live at Headquarters.”

“You’re still going on about that?”

“Hey, I’m a man on a mission, and records show that I usually excel at my missions.”

“Why do they even want me there?”

“They like to, you know, keep tabs on super weapons. To be honest, they were a little scared to learn that you flew under their radar for so long.”

“So I have to register myself with the government.” It was a flat statement. Tony could hear the refusal in his tone. “You don’t seem like the kind of man who would be forthright in that sort of thing.”

“Take that fact as a reason to come with me.” Tony stood, holding his upturned palms out to Stephen. “They’re good guys. There’s not much to be forthright with in the first place. They’re not out for control, or regulation, or anything like that. If they were, I wouldn’t be with them.”

“And I’ll be able to come and go as I please?” Stephen glanced skeptically at Tony’s hands.

“As freely as I’m standing here right now.”

Tony gave him the best ‘you know you want to’ smile, and Stephen stared at him before letting out a long, laborious sigh.

“I’m going to regret this.” With his right hand, he drew a large circle in the air and conjured a portal directly to the front door at Headquarters. He stepped next to Tony and guided him through the glowing entryway with an arm behind his shoulders.


	4. Chapter 4

“‘Get lost, Squidward’? _Seriously_ , Tony?”

Tony paused the newsfeed and swung his arm over the back of the couch, facing Stephen and completely owning up to his perfectly executed Spongebob reference.

“It’s the perfect insult. Calling him that implies that he’s boring _and_ ugly.”

“Do you really think a demon alien from outer space would actually understand the reference to be offended by it?” Under Stephen’s openly appalled expression from Tony’s word choice, there was delight.

It was late. Stephen had spent the remainder of the first day locked up in an office room and talking things over with SHIELD agents. They’d run some tests on him, determining, with Tony’s word, that he wasn’t a threat to global security. Not that Stephen would ever use his powers for world domination. The thought alone was enough to make Tony smirk to himself. Stephen’s first decree as Emperor Supreme would be to paint every building on the planet dark mahogany brown.

When Stephen was allowed to roam Headquarters freely, the sun had already set. He found Tony in a workroom, browsing the exciting volumes of Quinjet Operational Manuals.

“Up this late?” Stephen had asked from the doorframe.

“It’s common knowledge around here that I’m not human and therefore don’t need sleep to function,” Tony answered without looking up from the pages.

“How serendipitous. I’m the same.”

Tony did look up at that, glancing at Stephen from the other side of the room. The unspoken _I also suffer from insomnia caused by deep psychological scarring_ was so tangible that Tony could ball it up and swallow it if he wanted to.

“Do you wanna not sleep together?” Tony was already dog-earing his manual and walking toward the door, flipping the room’s lights off with one finger.

“Beg your pardon?” Stephen’s eyebrows were through the roof, following Tony with eyes as wide as saucers.

“I mean, we can not go to sleep, and do something else instead of sleeping, together,” Tony said with a smile, pretending the play on words was unintentional when it was actually oh-so-intentional. The look on Stephen’s face was worth it. “Sorry, should have made that clearer.”

“Of course,” Stephen said briskly. “I actually came looking for you in hopes of you jogging my memory like we talked about.”

“Well, we do have hours before sunrise. I’ll make you up a fun little bedtime story.” Tony talked as he walked, leading Stephen on a detour to the kitchen. “Coffee?”

“I’ll pass.”

So now here they were, watching old news recaps of the spaceship landing in New York in the lounge room at Headquarters at three in the morning, everyone else asleep, the only light being the blue glow from the TV.

Tony’s bare feet got tucked under himself on one side, and he leaned close enough to Stephen that their shoulders almost touched despite all the room they had on the large couch. The news rattled on, so there wasn’t much need to fill in the details verbally. Contrary to the horrible images playing out on the screen, Tony felt content. He didn’t have to think about the violence anymore because it had all been put right side back up again. The world entered the usual refractory period it usually does after an emotionally taxing supervillain attack, getting back on its feet. It was a period during which those who fixed everything got to lay low, let their muscles relax and cool down, the adrenaline wearing off. It was nice, sitting with Stephen, feeling that they were watching a fictional movie rather than history.

An unfamiliar sense of exhaustion washed over Tony, the kind that left his body craving the sweet embrace of his mattress. Sleep would find him soon, whether or not he was in bed when it did. He mentally joked to himself that of course sleep came easily during one of the few moments he wanted to stay awake and relish the peace with another human.

Well, if he was going to knock out, he might as well throw in some fluffy flirting as he went down.

Clearing his throat nonchalantly, he scooted over the remaining inch between himself and Stephen and allowed his head to be pillowed by the hollow of Stephen’s collarbone. He smelled really nice, now that he wasn’t covered in wood shavings and Arabian dust particles.

Stephen tensed at the contact, and Tony was too tired to feign shame or innocence.

“Sorry,” Stephen said when he realized Tony wasn’t going to move. “Are we at the stage in our friendship that you feel comfortable with this much physical contact?”

“This making you uncomfortable?” Tony drawled through a purposeful yawn.

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s not unwelcome contact,” Stephen answered, sounding soft, “but I’m just curious as to why. Or are you always this boundaryless with your friends?”

_You did not just friendzone the man you confessed your love to on an orange planet a few months ago._

“Only the ones I want to flirt with.” It wasn’t a lie.

“So all of them,” Stephen deadpanned.

Tony couldn’t even be offended because it was in all likelihood true.

Stephen seemed to go still for a moment, thinking of something. Then, coming to some mental decision, he readjusted their positions to drape his arm around Tony’s shoulders, holding him close like a real lover might. Tony, in his sleepiness, snuggled into the embrace and sighed to himself, reminded that it had been too long since he felt this safe.

He fell asleep more saddened than he should have by the fact that, among all the other things, Stephen had also forgotten that he’d seen himself fall in love with Tony roughly fourteen million different times.

…

There had to be a way to give Stephen back his memory. The stakes skyrocketed now that Tony’s love life was on the line, and don’t worry, that was just sarcasm. He wanted to help Stephen because he truly cared about him. Or something like that.

The easiest and most obvious solution would be to do what they started last night, watching news footage and telling him that happened where his brain seemed to fail him. It felt like cheating, though, or it felt incomplete. Tony could simply just list off the events of the battle, and Stephen would be up to speed on everything. But the stories wouldn’t be stored in his mind as they would if they were from his own memory. It could sound fake to Stephen, detached like a dream in which he was only half a witness.

From the same vein, Tony dreaded walking up to Stephen and going “Oh yeah, and by the way, you and I have a fairytale romance in nearly every. single. possible. reality.”

And how would Stephen react to that? Laugh in his face and tell Tony to stop joking, he’s not helping? Or would the response be akin to those he gives to Tony’s flirting advances, tensing up and approaching with confusion and caution?

Tony ground his teeth into his seven a.m. coffee cup, a regretful four hours after he’d fallen asleep on the couch the night before. He spent the better part of the last half hour pacing the kitchen and flurrying through an existential crisis, which wasn’t helped by his preoccupation with the fact that he’d magically woken up in his own bed instead of his spot on the couch.

His befuddlement was put on hold when the Asgardian king walked into the kitchen, his presence as comforting as it was commanding. Thor was like the goddamn sun, and Tony would build up the courage to tell him he loved him one day. The way he looked in the gray shirt and loose sweatpants he used as pajamas made Tony wonder why he wasn’t already someone’s husband.

“Stark,” Thor greeted, smiling brightly. “It brings me great joy to see you up and about so early. Feeling alright?”

“‘Course I’m alright,” Tony said behind his coffee mug, then took a long gulp. “Why wouldn’t I be. The world is saved. The heroes can rest easy now.”

Thor clapped his meaty hand on Tony’s shoulder, smiling like he knew the secrets to the cosmos. Which he might.

“I know something’s on your mind. Something always is,” he murmured gently.

“Short hair looks good on you by the way.” Tony’s eyebrows twitched up, and he nodded his chin towards Thor’s head.

“Stark.”

“Fine. You know I can’t say no to you.” Tony set his mug down against the countertop and bared himself to Thor. “I’ve reached an impasse… in the romance department.”

Thor laughed at that, joyous and rich. “Oh, I’m not at all surprised by that.”

“You’re not?” Tony blinked at him.

“Not in the slightest.” Thor rocked Tony back and forth with the hand clasped solidly on his shoulder. “Given your history of amorous encounters, one can draw the conclusion that you’re quite inexperienced in the art of romance. True romance.”

“Are you calling me a virgin?”

“Allfather only knows the things you’ve done behind closed doors.” Thor shook his head. “No. What I mean is that your skills in forming meaningful intimate relationships with people are severely lacking. You’ve put all your energy into connecting with people physically, but what about emotionally? Spiritually?”

Tony opened his mouth to retort. He did in fact have meaningful emotional connections to people, all of them located inside that very building, and one of them in Queens with visiting rights on the weekends. But he supposed those weren’t the ‘intimate relationships’ Thor was hinting at.

“And why do you gather that is, almighty wise one?”

Thor didn’t even bat an eye at the condescending nickname. “Because you’ve spent your whole life building up walls around yourself. You put so much effort into keeping the entire world out that you don’t stop to let the important people in.”

“Huh,” Tony breathed through his mouth, momentarily stunned by the god’s perceptiveness. “You’ve got me stumped here.”

Thor gave him a knowing, triumphant, yet caring smile and stepped away to go right for the Toaster Strudel.

“So who is it?” he asked while tearing through the wrapping.

“Who’s who?”

“The cause for your distressed heart palpitations and flushing of the face. The person you’re in love with.” Thor drew his fingers in circular motions, gesturing to Tony.

“I’m not in love with any-”

“Oh, wait, let me guess. It’s the wizard isn’t it?” Thor squinted his eyes at Tony as he thoughtfully prepared his breakfast.

“How the hell did you know that?”

“Lucky guess.” The way Thor grinned made Tony suspect that it wasn’t a guess at all.

Tony abandoned his mug and walked closer to Thor, one palm sliding over the smooth granite. He gestured widely to the massive man drawing smiley faces on his Toaster Strudel with icing. “Alright, since you know everything, why don’t you tell me how to get over my little dilemma?”

“First you should tell me what dilemma you have exactly with the wizard. Surely he’s responded to your courting advances in kind?”

“Well, yeah, but in his own stupid way.” Tony absolutely refused to picture Stephen carrying him back to his bed after he’d fallen asleep on the couch like every other rom-com out there. “But no. My dilemma is that before he disappeared, he told me he was going to fall in love with me, and now that he’s back, he doesn’t remember a damn thing.”

“That does sound frustrating,” Thor agreed helpfully. “Have you tried telling him how you feel?”

“Solid advice, Bob Ross.”

“There’s no time like the present. Being honest with people about what they mean to you is the first step in letting yourself open up.”

“No offence, but when exactly did you go from thick-headed jock to calm sage anyway? A few years ago, your fists were the only things making decisions for you.”

“The events of late have opened my eyes to the things that are truly important.” Thor traced two fingers down his cheek, under his one brown eye, sobered. Tony had heard the story of that little incident from Bruce. “I’ve learned that life is as precious as it is short, even for a god like me.”

“Ever the patron saint of humility,” Tony couldn’t help but mumble under his breath. “Anyway, no can do on the telling Stephen my feelings thing. He should remember everything on his own, you know, like the way nature intended. He says he doesn’t even have a spell for amnesia, which is like, what’s the point of being a wizard if you don’t have that, right?”

Thor’s eyes lit up boyishly, and he crowded close to Tony. “Ah, if only we were back on Asgard. We have this honey mead that we called Ambrosia. It was delicious and potent. One horn would get me swaying and singing along with all of my battlemates for the rest of the night. Oh, so sweet, of course, being made from honey and all. But I’m getting off topic. Ambrosia is a versatile drink. It can heal all wounds and cure unseen ailments of the brain, memory loss included. It is also a wonderful pain-reducer, stimulant, and aphrodisiac. My female friends knew better than to stand too close to me after my second or third horn.”

“Sounds like you got pretty horny,” Tony supplied without effort, because that was the easiest setup ever, and Thor humored him with a few hearty chuckles.

“Alas, the sweet nectar of the gods was lost along with the rest of my planet. I am out of ideas, and you, my friend, are out of luck.”

“This pep-talk has been incredibly useful,” Tony said sarcastically. Thor didn’t seem to pick up on it, though.

“Any time. I love helping my friends.” He left Tony with one more hard pat on the shoulder before taking the rest of his food to the dining table.

“Hey, one quick thing,” Tony said with a sudden afterthought. “Don’t tell anyone about this, okay?”

“You have my word, Stark.”

With a sigh, Tony abandoned the kitchen to go work his brain into a puddle of goo in his shop.

…

As time had proven, the scar on Tony’s side from where Thanos stabbed him did not fade. The white, jagged line of skin served as a permanent reminder of what transpired on that lonely planet. Its twin on his back mirrored the spot where the metal exited his body, and Tony would like very much to forget about how it felt to have something slice right through him.

The scar also made it impossible to forget what happened minutes after the stabbing when everyone around him disappeared without warning. There were a lot of scars on Tony’s body, but none that could trigger such depression and panic that he couldn’t figure out how to swallow down. He knew it was pointless to worry about that day. Everything was fixed, and he could go on with his life. He guessed that over a longer period of time, he could learn to let go of those anxieties.

Staring at his his shirtless reflection in the mirror, a t-shirt clasped in his hands, Tony found his thoughts drifting to Stephen. The wizard didn’t have a cure for his lack of memories, but maybe he did have one for forgetting the bad thoughts in Tony’s head. He wondered if there was a way to switch their conditions. He’d gladly trade his memory for Stephen’s amnesia if it meant he could forget about that day. Or maybe Mr. Magic Time Stone could catapult him so far into the future that his entire life was just part of a distant past.

A knock jolted him back to the present, and two seconds later, his door gently opened to reveal a red and blue wizard locking eyes with Tony through the mirror.

“Ah, the object of my fantasies,” Tony greeted, turning around.

Stephen swallowed and nodded once. “Apologies. Am I intruding?” He glanced pointedly at Tony’s naked torso, eyes sliding over him in a way that wasn’t supposed to make Tony internally preen but did.

“At least you knocked. Imagine if I had my whole ass out and you just portaled yourself in here without warning. Actually, that sounds kinda sexy.”

All Stephen did was pull his eyebrows together, and Tony wished it wasn’t so hard to get a rise out of the only man whose reactions he truly relished.

“What I’m trying to say is that you don’t have to worry about intruding. You’re fine to have around, announced or otherwise.”

“Useful information for the future,” Stephen mused with just enough flirt in his voice to have Tony imagining Stephen popping into his bedroom late at night.

The playfulness left his features when his eyes settled on the long scar scraping down Tony’s abdomen. Tony still hadn’t put on his shirt, and he didn’t think he needed to as he felt no discomfort under the scrutiny. Stephen’s face softened sympathetically.

“I’m guessing you don’t have something up your magical sleeve that can help me out with this, right?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t have these.” Stephen lifted one hand. The long, dark scars running down his fingers were painfully visible, even from across the room.

While Tony’s knee-jerk reaction was to make a scalding comment about ugly scars, his gut told him to keep his mouth shut for once. He could tell in Stephen’s clenched jaw that he was bitter and insecure about his hands, so he’d better not try and win his heart over by poking fun at them.

“What’s with the official getup? There a birthday party today?” he tried instead, gesturing to Stephen’s robes and vibrant cloak.

“My reason for stopping by in the first place, actually. I came to tell you that I’m going back to the sanctum. For a few days, at any rate.”

“You authorized to do that?”

“I don’t need authorization to visit my own home,” Stephen replied sharply.

Tony considered it and came to the quick conclusion that it was true. He did, after all, tell Stephen that he was free to come and go as he pleased.

“Alright, but I’m sure Fury would like some sort of guarantee that you aren’t ditching us forever.” It was bait, and Stephen took it flawlessly.

“So come with me.”

“Excellent idea.” Tony tried not to sound too smug. “I’ll stay in touch with the boss man while you consult the sorting hat or whatever it is you do at Hogwarts.” Plus, going with Stephen meant they could have more of those little memory-refreshing dates like the couch from last night.

“Just get your things and we can go,” Stephen said after a barely-concealed eye roll.

“No need. I’ll have FRIDAY drop my stuff when we get there.”

“Right, but you’re forgetting something.” Amused, Stephen glanced pointedly at Tony’s shirt, still in his hands and not on his body. Tony slipped it on despite himself.

“You keep me modest, Doc. I’m gonna change that.”

With a swirling motion of his hands, Stephen conjured a glowing orange circle right in the middle of Tony’s bedroom. They walked through it together, into a refreshing change of scenery.


	5. Chapter 5

“Is there anything interesting to do around here?”

“You’re in a library full of the most sacred information known to mankind and the mystic arts. Pick up a book.”

The room was, admittedly, pretty cool. It looked exactly how Tony guessed it would before even stepping foot inside: rich, dark wainscoting made of wood, shelves of books from floor to ceiling, coffee tables with random artifacts strewn about, volumes stacked in piles on the floor and collecting dust, the scent of what Tony imagined the inside of a leather shoe smelled like, which wasn’t that bad at all. ‘Library’ was a poor choice of word that did just the bare minimum. If Tony had to describe the space more specifically to capture the aura it gave off, he’d say it was like Rasputin’s private collection, if Rasputin was more interested in chakras than murder.

The most interesting thing Tony found was a revolving stack in the corner. He spun it slowly, watching the books mosey in and out of view. Just when he thought he’d made a full turn, the books that slid to the front were not the ones he remembered. He kept spinning, kept waiting for the circle to end, be he never saw the same title twice.

“Looking for something?”

Tony glanced over his shoulder to see Stephen watching him from behind his own book. Only his eyes were visible, but Tony could see the smirk in the crinkle around his eyes.

“Most of these are in a language I don’t know. But don’t worry. I can come up with an algorithm to translate them on the spot in half a day.” Tony pushed it along lazily with one hand, not fond of the way it creaked.

“It has an infinity spell on it, if you were wondering.” Stephen went back to reading his book, but the way his eyebrows set on his face told Tony that he was still smugly amused by his lack of understanding. “We own too many books to fit in this building, so the spell saves us a lot of invaluable space.”

“Uh huh, and what if you’re looking for a book that happens to be at the very end? How long can you spin it until your arm falls off?”

“Well, what are you looking for?” Stephen asked as he turned a page that he was obviously only pretending to read to make Tony think he wasn’t interested in the conversation. A classic, which Tony used on other people all the time.

“The Library of Alexandria,” Tony answered with a huff.

Stephen finally lowered the book to reveal his whole face, eyes snapping to Tony. He expected Stephen to give him a look of annoyance or dismissiveness, but instead what he got was an all-too-proud smile.

“Go ahead and turn it.” Stephen nodded at the supernatural lazy susan.

Tony almost didn’t want to. But sure enough, as he spun the device to reveal the next row of stacks, he was greeted by the sight of yellowish papyrus scrolls, piled one on top of the other with ancient symbols written on their handles.

He blinked, thinking at first that these should be in the hands of the Library of Congress. But on a second thought, he figured the government would do just fine without them.

“Okay, I’m a little impressed.” Tony walked away from the shelves and deposited himself into one of the gray leather chairs next to Stephen.

“You’re not going to read them and see if they’re real?”

“Judging by how satisfied with yourself you look right now, I’m gonna go ahead and believe you.”

“While we’re at it, I may as well let you know that I have a spell for immediate translation. So there’s no need for you to spend half a day tinkering.” The book raised up to cover that damned smile again.

“Oh, so you’re the one who can magically fly, but I’m the Tinker Bell?” Tony crossed one arm and one leg over their respective others and leaned back in the chair. “Does that make you Peter Pan?”

“You make a lot of pop culture references for someone who is so outwardly exasperated by them.”

“Only because you make it so easy for me to think of them. And I mean that in the most endearing of ways, honey.”

This time when Tony flirted, Stephen didn’t look so confused by it. Maybe he didn’t know the full context of  _ why _ Tony was flirting with him, but he seemed to be more himself and indulged them both with more banter, “You always give me the nicest compliments, dear.”

“But seriously, Mr. Lost Library of Alexandria,” Tony started, and Stephen was already rolling his eyes, “how can you have access to all this information and not have one spell for selective memory loss?”

“And just when I thought we were having a moment.” Stephen shook his head through a sigh and closed the book. He placed it on his lap and folded his hands on top of it. “I’ve already searched our resources and came up empty-handed. I could travel to the other Sanctums and see if any sorcerers there might be able to help, but I already highly doubt that. Besides, I find filling the gaps in my memory less and less pertinent. From watching the videos and having you describe to me what happened, it’s clear that I still remember all the important details.”

“You wound me.”

“Excuse me?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I saw your mouth moving and heard words coming out.”

“Well, if you heard the words, why did you say ‘excuse me?’”

“Because I don’t get why--”

Tony was fully prepared to launch into a verbal warzone, but Stephen stopped abruptly and turned his head in the direction of the door. Before Tony could even ask what caught his attention, Stephen held up a silencing hand and got to his feet. Tony followed, standing from his chair and picking up on the need to be alert.

“Someone’s here,” Stephen said in a careful voice.

Tony floated closer to him, stepping lightly to see if he could hear whatever made Stephen so cautious in the first place. He heard nothing, leading him to determine that Stephen’s brain was magically connected to the building, enabling him to hear people approaching like some mental doorbell.

“Hey, Mister Strange? Is this your house? I knocked and the door let me in, so I hope that’s okay! Mister Strange? Oh, crap, it’s Doctor, isn’t it? Doctor Strange? Whoa, is that a real tornado in that case??”

Stephen and Tony shared the same look of simultaneous relief and despair. Then Stephen was out the library door and down the stairs in a flash, Tony riding hot on his coattails.

Peter had his face pressed up against one of the displays on the first floor. The glass housed a swirl of dark clouds that was indeed a real tornado trapped inside, and Tony hoped the walls were a lot thicker than they looked.

“That is the Storm of Shu, and I would very much like if you didn’t mess with it. It gets fussy when you try to chase it down,” Stephen said in a stern voice.

“That’s so cool!” Peter spun around to greet Stephen, waving at him and then Tony. “Oh, hey, Mr. Stark. What are you doing here?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Stephen interjected. “How do you even know about this place?”

“Mr. Stark gave me the address and told me that you could protect me if I was in danger.” Peter pointed innocently at Tony, and Stephen looked at him with a face of annoyed confusion. Or confused annoyance.

Tony shrugged, not feeling the need to explain his overprotective urges when it came to Peter. “Are you in danger then?”

Peter’s lips pulled tight, as did his shoulders. “I forgot to take the chicken out of the freezer like Aunt May said, and she should be getting home soon.”

“You realize that in the time it took to ride a train out here, you could have thawed the chicken in the microwave and saved your ass from Aunt May’s wrath?” Tony raised his eyebrows at Peter.

“Oh, I didn’t take the train.” Peter pulled one sleeve up and flashed them his web-slinging apparatus.

“What happened to you laying low for a while, hm? We’ve already had this conversation. No Spidey appearances unless I say it’s okay,” Tony reminded him.

“But--”

“No buts.” Before Tony could even begin his mother hen lecture about the reason superheroes needed to stay out of the media for a while, Stephen stepped forward.

“Since you’re here, you may as well stay and make yourself comfortable,” Stephen said warmly, switching to hospitality mode. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Uh, beer?” Peter tried.

“Grape soda it is.” With a wave of Stephen’s hand, a glass of fizzling purple soda appeared in Peter’s grasp.

The boy’s eyes went big and wide. “Whoa, that’s so sick!” He held the glass at all angles around his head, trying to see if it was a hologram. “Is that real??” With a cautious first sip, Peter’s eyes went even rounder, and a smile split his face. “Man, where were you when those jocks snatched my lunch money freshman year?”

“Let’s go sit down and chat for a bit,” Stephen gestured to a room off the main entrance. Peter walked in first, chugging his magical grape soda the whole way, with Stephen and Tony following shoulder to shoulder right behind him. “I want to compare notes.”

…

“And then I said ‘Magic with a kick!’ and flew at him through your portal and got him right in the jaw.” Peter talked around a mouthful of spinach puffs that Stephen had presented on the table for the three of them to munch on.

“And why you feel the need to narrate your action sequences will always be beyond me,” Tony interrupted with a wave of his hand. “I’m sure it doesn’t help you fight better.”

Peter seemed to draw into himself, shoulders coming up shyly. “Comedic relief…” he mumbled almost quietly enough for Tony not to hear.

“Please, Peter. Continue.” Stephen nodded encouragingly, and he even poofed a third glass of grape soda into Peter’s hand, which delighted him to see just as much as the first time.

“He almost got me the next time I jumped through the portal. Well, he did get me, but you guys helped distract him so I could get away.” Peter’s hand crept over to the plate of spinach puffs, and he snatched another with a speed that indicated that he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to eat all of them, which he was. “Dick called me an insect.”

“The spider motif might have something to do with that,” Tony gave him.

“Maybe I’m an insect, but that dude was a real pain in my ass,” Peter grumbled.

Tony and Stephen both chuckled at that. They had gotten to the point in recovery where they could talk about the trillion-count death toll that day had taken without it letting it get them down. Tony, familiar with such recoveries, ignored the twinge of guilt that twisted in his chest whenever he was reminded that Peter was there with them, fighting like the hero he wanted to be, fighting like the hero he was, and paying a hefty price because of it. He took manual steps to replace that image in his head with the one sitting right in front of him, of Peter stuffing his face and talking like a true New Yorker.

“Mister Doctor Strange,” Peter started, stuttering once he heard what he said out loud, “do you, um, have a bathroom around here?” His eyes glanced warily around the corner and landed apprehensively on an ancient bronze pot.

“Yes, up one floor. It’s the first door you’ll see.”

Peter uttered a quick thanks and dashed into the hallway. Tony watched him disappear, then directed his gaze to Stephen with one eyebrow raised. Stephen caught the glance and shrugged innocently.

“Should have seen that coming from all the soda I’d provided him. He has dental insurance, right? That’s a hell of a lot of sugar.”

“No, not that,” Tony corrected, electing to not tell Stephen that yes, Peter had dental, and medical, and life, under the same company that Tony had his own insurance for one very obvious reason. He leaned over on his chair, elbow pressing into the armrest and legs crossed as he glared at Stephen. “What I mean is why are we even having this conversation with him? I already gave you the play-by-play of what went down on Titan. Are you ‘comparing notes’ because you don’t believe me?”

“That’s not it,” Stephen said. “I asked him to tell me everything he remembers to see how much exactly he does remember.”

“And how much is that, Doctor, based on your professional opinion?”

“He does in fact remember everything, leading me to believe that I’m the only one with vacancies in my memory.”

Tony’s face fell before he could stop it. He shifted in his seat, sitting upright. “Before you came to Headquarters, we had an in-depth investigation with Wanda and Barnes. We needed to know what they felt when they disappeared, and they gave us all the details they could recall.”

“Which were a lot, I presume.” Stephen’s lips were a hard line, his eyes fixed on the coffee table in front of them.

“It sounded like they didn’t miss much,” Tony agreed. “They remember everything, just like Peter.”

“This is providing further evidence in my personal theory that my memory was compromised because of my jumping forward in time.” Stephen’s gloved fingers rubbed together in a fidgeting motion that Tony was all too familiar with.

“And you don’t remember any of the futures you saw?” Tony hung onto the thin string of hope that Stephen would suddenly recall the fourteen million times they fell in love.

“Bits and pieces, but nothing concrete.” Stephen shook his head in frustration. “All that I know for certain was that I saw us winning against Thanos. I had absolute confidence that you would save us, Tony, and you did.” At that, Stephen finally zoned back into reality and locked eyes with Tony.

“Technically it was Carol,” he countered weakly. “Too bad you can’t remember the future, though. You could sell winning lottery numbers.” Stephen smiled amusedly but said nothing. “I know you said you didn’t really care about regaining your lost memory, but I’d hate to miss out on knowing what the future looks like.”

“I’m content with unpredictability.”

Tony leaned back in his chair, arms and legs stretched out languidly. “It’d be so easy if we could just, like, jump-start your brain with one of ours,” he sighed to the ceiling.

There was no sound or movement from the chair next to him for an extended moment. Tony took it to mean that Stephen was ignoring him, which wouldn’t surprise him and therefore wouldn’t offend him. But then Stephen shot out of his seat and stood towering in front of Tony, his cape billowing gently.

“Say that again?”

“What? Jump-start your brain?”

“With one of yours…” Stephen said slowly. “Precisely.”

Without explanation, he offered his hand out. When Tony took it, Stephen hoisted him to his feet and held his arms with both hands.

Tony was starting to put the puzzle pieces together only seconds after Stephen. “Listen, I know you’re a literal brain surgeon, but I’m not letting you operate on me--Hey!”

He protested when Stephen’s hands moved to cup his face. The gloves pressed to his cheeks, and he could feel the slight tremors underneath.

“Hold still,” Stephen said before Tony could get any more sounds of protest out.

He leaned forward, eyes locked intensely onto Tony’s. It got to the point where it was too close for comfort, and still Stephen surpassed that. When there was barely any space between their faces anymore, Tony noted how he could see the flecks of color in Stephen’s slate eyes. His lips parted on their own, a tiny breath of anticipation escaping him.

His eyes fluttered shut, and he was accepting that Stephen was finally acting on all the fantasies that Tony had been compiling in his head. Maybe his memory came back. Maybe he already fell in love with Tony.

Stephen pressed their foreheads together, and Tony had to clench his jaw against a real and true noise of disappointment.

“What are you doing?” Tony whispered, as there was no need to shout with their mouths a mere two inches apart.

“Seeing if I can access your memories.” Tony’s knees felt weak at how nice it was to hear Stephen’s rumbling voice so close and soft.

“I didn’t consent to this. You don’t get to root around in my brain.” His whispers became harsher with the redder his face got.

“Relax. I’m not entirely sure it’s even possible, but I want to try. Besides, don’t you want the winning lottery numbers?”

“I own half of New York, I don’t need--”

“Shut up, or I will seal your mouth shut again.”

The threat shouldn’t have gotten Tony to obey, but it did. He wanted this moment, whatever voodoo was involved, to last as long as possible because he reveled in the feeling of Stephen cradling his face and speaking so gently to him. The world around them faded away until it was just Stephen and his soft breaths that tasted like tea. Tony wished he wasn’t wearing gloves. His hands felt warm, even with them on.

How much would Stephen hate it if Tony interrupted his cozy little meditation session with a kiss?

“Um, should I leave?”

Stephen and Tony both snapped out of it, turning their heads simultaneously to see Peter standing awkwardly in the doorway. Unsure of when, Tony had put his hands on Stephen’s elbows and was holding them. He dropped his arms and took a healthy step backwards.

“We were just doing magic,” Tony said unhelpfully.

Stephen shook his head. “Unsuccessfully. I’m going to see if any of our books have information about transfering memory.”

He was gone in a flash, popping out of the room without so much as fluttering the curtains.

Peter’s jaw was still hanging open. “Why do I get the feeling that I wasn’t supposed to see that?”

“Tell me I don’t have to explain the birds and the bees to you.”

“Please, no, Mr. Stark,” Peter visibly cringed at the suggestion. “I know how all that works. It’s just… you and the doctor. I never would have guessed.”

“Trust me, we really were just trying to see if a spell would work.” Tony wished he knew how to conjure a glass of whiskey at will. “It’s not like that, me and him.”

“But you want it to be?” Peter tried carefully.

“What makes you think that?”

Peter shrugged, eyes cast to the floor. “You sounded sad when you said it wasn’t like that. So maybe the implication that you two were like that was something that you actually wanted, but since it isn’t like that, you’re sad.”

“Not just a tech whiz, huh?” Tony couldn’t say much else since Peter hit the proverbial nail right on the head.

“I’m something of a romantic genius,” Peter said with a grin.

“Uh-huh, so I’ve heard from Happy.”

“Hey, that was a long time ago!”

Tony allowed a smile to spread on his lips, and he rested his hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“I appreciate your insights, kid, but do me a favor and don’t mention this to anyone on the team, okay? Especially not the doc. I’d like him to come to it on his own, if you know what I mean.”

Peter held a finger in front of his own lips, eyes sparkling. “Your secret is safe with me!”


	6. Chapter 6

Spending the weekend at the Sanctum proved to be therapeutic for Tony in ways he hadn’t expected. Greenwich was a quieter neighborhood than Tony was used to, and the Sanctum was tucked away in a quaint little pocket. It was bigger on the inside, rooms and rooms to explore, antique toys to play with that shocked Tony’s senses hard-wired for modern amenities and clean lines.

But no matter how deep in the recesses of the Sanctum his curiosity took him, Tony found himself always gravitating toward Stephen. The wizard spent a lot of his time studying and researching. What he was trying to learn, Tony had no idea nor any inclination to find out. Stephen was into meditating, too, and he would often silently put his book down and sit still as a statue, listening to nothing other than the quiet of the room and his own steady breathing. During these moments Tony, caught off guard, wouldn't know what to do. He’d be sitting in the library or the study with Stephen, playing with his own toys, when Stephen would just decide to clock out for a few hours. Without much else to do, Tony took the opportunity to watch Stephen’s face. Over the course of the meditation, the hard lines on his forehead and around his mouth would soften. His pulse would relax, and his overall aura--Tony was spending so much time with the man that he was basically an expert when it came to his aura by now--eased the tension in his body. Stephen always came-to looking much happier and less stressed.

An old clock somewhere in the room ticked the minutes away. As much as Tony wished he had his workshop to tinker the hours of his day into nothingness, he came to enjoy sitting in the comfortable silence with nothing other than his personal tablet or one of the infinite books surrounding them at all times.

He didn’t know how long had passed when Stephen finally opened his eyes again, serenely returning to reality after meditation. Tony half wanted to ask him what planet or alternate reality he visited every time he checked out of this one.

Stephen’s arms were resting on the edges of his chair, and his head had tilted slightly backward when he was concentrating. Now he lowered his chin and met Tony’s gaze from across the coffee table.

“Would you like to go to dinner with me tonight?”

It wasn’t the first thing out of his mouth Tony expected to hear, so it took him longer than normal to come up with an answer, jaw hanging uselessly open.

“The spirits tell you there’s good fortune to be had in a restaurant this evening?” was the best he could come up with.

“Not exactly.” Stephen smiled and assumed a more lax position in his armchair. “I just remembered that Wong hasn’t gone grocery shopping this week. I don’t think there’s much to eat here.”

“I’m glad you spend so much time and energy sitting perfectly still and reaching for the answers to the cosmos just for the cosmos to tell you that you left some items off your shopping list,” Tony said, forever baffled by Stephen’s attachment to magic.

“Well, I’m not exactly looking for answers. Meditation helps me clear my thoughts and refocus my energies. It grounds me to the things in my life that are the most important. So I guess in a nuanced way, it does give me some answers. On top of that, it’s great discipline and does wonders for my back--” Stephen stopped when Tony held up a hand.

“Spare me all the perks of being a Tibetan monk, please. I’ve had therapists who’ve tried to get me into meditation before. Never was my thing, though, and I don’t think it ever will be.”

Stephen nodded. “Your meditation takes the shape of new inventions and technological experiments.”

Tony had to give him that one. He was hesitant to refer to his engineering as meditation, but he always considered it a kind of therapeutic work for him. Something to take his mind off things that was also practical and pragmatic at the same time. “Very observant of you.”

“It suits you well for your work ethic,” Stephen mused, sounding like he could go into picking through Tony’s brain and dissecting him like he used to do with his patients. But instead, he surprised Tony with, “You never answered my question.”

“Dinner tonight? With you?” Tony pretended to consider it. “Only if it’s a date, and I get to pick the restaurant.”

Stephen raised his eyebrows at Tony, smile widening. He huffed out a little laugh through his nose and turned his gaze away--dare Tony say it--shyly. “So, where are we going?” It wasn’t a no, so Tony took it as agreement to the date.

Damn, if he had known it was that easy to ask Stephen out, he would have taken that time stone of his and done it ages ago.

“Eleven Madison Park,” Tony decided without having to think about too much. It was one of his favorites downtown, and he more often than not fantasized about sharing a quiet evening there alone with Stephen.

“Haven’t been, but I’ve heard wonderful things,” Stephen said.

“Wonderful, indeed,” Tony hummed.

He stood, fixing his shirt. Stephen got to his feet as well, and they walked down toward the foyer.

“I’ll have to go back to get a change of clothes. A jacket is required, but you can eighty-six a tie. How does eight sound? Do you need me to send Happy down to give you a lift onto Manhattan?”

“I think I’ll manage.” Stephen opened the front door for Tony like a gentleman, smiling. “I’ll see you at eight, Tony.”

…

There wasn’t a moment during the evening that Tony didn’t truly love. First of all, Stephen looked great in a slim-cut black suit and cuffs, down to the dress shoes and cashmere socks. Tony made a comment about how much nicer the jacket looked than his “frumpy blue wizard pajamas,” and Stephen just returned the compliment with nicer words. He said Tony looked like he was born to wear a tuxedo, something Tony secretly prided himself in. He may be a wreck inside, but at least he cleaned up nice.

During the meal, they completely avoided the topic of work and superheroes and world domination. Stephen instead steered the conversation to what it was like being a brain surgeon. He talked about some of his old patients (not naming names, of course) and regaled Tony with stories of hospital drama that could rival even the best of medical T.V. shows. Stephen said he used to live like this every night, dining at the fanciest restaurants and not caring how he spent his money because back then it seemed an infinite supply to him. After his accident, which Tony learned he wasn’t so horrified to talk about as it might seem, he reevaluated and taught himself how to live more humbly.

Tony hung onto every word. As the night went on, more and more glasses of wine being poured for them, he felt warmer and more bubbly. Stephen was a natural conversationalist, and they only exchanged a few light hearted insults the entire time. Rather than jabbing at each other, it felt so much better to hear the other speak and joke and laugh.

Tony didn’t even let Stephen glance at the bill. He took care of it all, ignoring Stephen’s protests, interrupting him with sounds of his own. “Ah, ah, ah. My restaurant, my treat, okay?”

When they exited the restaurant, the cool night air was a welcome sensation on Tony’s warm face. He glanced both ways down the sidewalk, then picked a directed and started that way, hands in his pockets. Stephen strolled leisurely along with him. They found themselves winding through the pathways in the park across the street, chatting because they were immune to running out of things to say, hidden from the city between the trees.

“And that’s the secret to teaching yourself fifteen languages in five months.” Stephen wore a proud grin, glancing at Tony as they walked before returning his eyes to the path in front of them.

“Forgive me, but I must have missed the childhood milestone where my pop taught me to project myself into the astral plane while I sleep,” Tony drawled. “It takes a little more time for those of us who can’t completely forgo sleep in favor of studying.”

Stephen shrugged. “I use what I have to my advantage.”

“What I’m struggling to understand is why bother learning the languages if you can just magic yourself a translator whenever you need one.” Who knew where Tony would be if FRIDAY couldn’t crack any code that followed a linguistic pattern. Life would have been a lot slower for him, that much was certain.

“Part of the discipline, I suppose. It’s not about knowing the language just to access the information. It’s about knowing all the shades and gradations that come with it. The culture, the dialects, the spirituality.”

“I bet Yale would pay a shiny penny for a professor fluent in ancient Celtic,” Tony threw in, earning him a chuckle. “But seriously, you sound like the real deal. Genuine. I like that.”

“You sound jealous,” Stephen said softly.

“Sometimes I wish I could be like that,” Tony admitted. “But I’m always going to be the guy who tries his hardest to find the easiest way out.”

“You are very genuine, Tony. So genuine sometimes that you don’t stop to filter the words between your head and your mouth.” Stephen was teasing him was a smile, but his eyes were sincere. “If you weren’t genuine, you wouldn’t have so many people who care about you as much as they do.”

“Most people who come to mind are the people who are nice to me just because my last name is what it is.” He didn’t mean it to sound so self-deprecating, but stuff like that just came naturally to him.

“I’m talking about the people you’ve got rounded up in that facility of yours. They all care about you, truly. All of them.”

They had walked the length of the park, and Tony had to face the reality that they the night had to end there. He stopped at the edge of the park and looked to Stephen, who was watching him with a curious and muted expression.

“Myself included,” Stephen added. He raised his hand to Tony’s face, gently brushing light fingertips down his cheek. They stood close enough for Tony to feel the fluttering breaths from Stephen’s mouth on his skin.

“You can’t count yourself in that list. You aren’t even at the facility right now,” was all he could think to say. He didn’t care to think of anything better, or to even register the weight of Stephen’s words, not when he was preoccupied with staring at his lips.

As if his thoughts had a rope tied to them, Stephen closed the distance like he was drawn into Tony. He dimly wondered if Stephen’s magic made it so he could read his mind, and then they were kissing. Stephen’s mouth was a soft but sure pressure against his own. Tony was glad Stephen leaned down to meet him, or else he might have had to stand on his toes.

It couldn’t have lasted long, and it was leagues more chaste than what Tony would have loved, but it was tender and nebulous all the same. Stephen pulled back a few centimeters when it was over, his fingers hooked behind Tony’s neck and idly playing with his hair.

“The Beekman isn’t too far from here,” Tony said, wanting so desperately to taste the wine Stephen drank again.

“Tony…”

“You sound like you’re considering it.” Tony opened his eyes and drew back to look into Stephen’s face. He even looked like he wanted to, save for the tight line his lips became. “I could get us a penthouse suite. Privacy, open bar, balcony, thousand thread count sheets.”

“Don’t tempt me, because I will say yes.”

“So that is a yes?”

“I’ve had a wonderful night with you, Tony.” Stephen kissed the corner of his mouth. “There’s no need to rush.”

Tony’s gaze lowered, his pride a little wounded at the rejection. He didn’t feel terrible, though, because Stephen’s words promised something that was even more teasing than any foreplay they could have had at the Beekman. He held onto the hope that there would be a next time.

“Would you like a bridge to Headquarters?” Stephen pulled a ring out of his pocket and slid it over two of his fingers.

“Hey, you know the law. No drinking and magic.”

Stephen didn’t answer, but his smile was full of an emotion that Tony didn’t really have a word for. The closest word he guessed would be affection.

A portal opened in the grass, with no one around, and Stephen was safe to send Tony home with a promise that he would be back at Headquarters in the morning.

…

It was rare that Tony sought out physical distractions as a means of releasing himself from stress. And no, he didn’t mean that kind of physical distraction. Sadly.

He meant wrapping his knuckles like he’d seen Cap do so many times and go to town on one of the punching bags in the weight room of the facility. Granted, he was no super soldier, so he barely made the thing sway every time he knocked his fists against it. Not that he was trying to show off anyway--like Cap always did. No, he just needed to work up a sweat in order to clear his head. He could hear Pepper already goading in his ear-- _If only you did this as a routine, then maybe you’d be able to keep your cholesterol down for once_.

“Nice to see you in here for a change.”

Tony glanced over his shoulder, fists still raised, and found Nat standing with one hand lazily resting on her hip, which was cocked out to the side. The workout clothes she wore hugged her lithe body tightly and reminded Tony that her limbs were the only weapons she really needed.

“Can’t rely on my suit for everything,” Tony said with a half shrug, and went back to punching. It was a lot harder to concentrate, though, now that Nat was there to watch him swat at the thing like a fluffed-up kitten.

“You looking to knock some heads in the near future?” Nat circled into his field of vision. She stood at first just off to the side, but then decided to move behind the punching bag and hold it steady for Tony.

He glanced at her and managed one huffed laugh between his rough breaths. “What? I’m not allowed to keep up with the rest of you? This is my gym, technically, you know.”

His fist connected with the firm pad harder than before, prompting a quiet grunt from him. Nat had to brace one foot behind herself to keep from being pushed over.

“That’s more like it,” she said through a wicked smile. “Again.”

Punching that hard repeatedly made Tony’s arms and hands sore rather quickly. He was winded within a few minutes, but Nat still barked at him to hit harder, harder, harder. If this was her usual methodology, no wonder she was such a skilled fighter. This routine was murder.

“Jesus,” Tony panted. He held up a finger for a pause, then bent over his knees to catch his breath.

“That was a great start, but warmup is over.”

The glare Tony shot her got him a hearty laugh in return. “I don’t recall signing up for American Ninja Warrior Training.”

“But that’s what you got.” Nat shrugged. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“Why is it so unnatural for me to exercise? Do I really look that unathletic?”

Nat stepped away from the punching bag and began stretching. Her palms flattened against the floor on either side of her feet like she was made of taffy. Her lack of response was enough of a ‘yes’ to Tony’s question.

“So what’s on your mind?”

“What makes you think something’s on my mind?” Tony was beginning to see a pattern here.

“You may have been punching harder than usual, but I could tell you were distracted by something.” With her hands planted in the same spot, Nat slid down into the splits and looked up at him.

_Yes, I’m distracted by a boy_. If Tony confessed that, he was sure Nat would hit him upside the head and tell him he was wasting his time with crushes.

Maybe that was what he needed to hear. Might as well…

“I went on a date last night,” he stated.

“Oh?” Amid twisting her torso around, Nat shot him a look with one eyebrow quirked up in curiosity.

“With Strange.”

“Oh.” She didn’t even try to hide how she really felt, both eyebrows drawn downwards to match the corners of her mouth.

“For a spy, you have a terrible poker face.” Tony crossed his arms.

“Well, you would make a strange couple--”

“Hah,” Tony indulged.

“--but I guess the heart wants what it wants. We are talking about your heart, right? And not the thing between your legs.”

“A little bit of both, actually.” Tony prided himself in the grossed out face she gave him. “But more so the former. More than I’ve felt in a long time, which is the problem.”

“So you like him. What’s so problematic about that?”

Before Tony could stop himself, he was spilling all the details from the beginning. How Stephen went into the future and returned with the spoiler that they were going to fall in love. How Stephen disappeared, leaving Tony distraught and desperate to make bring him back along with everyone else. How he’d spent all the time between losing him and getting him back daydreaming about how lovely life would be for the two of them. How Stephen threw a massive wrench into that by forgetting all of it.

Nat let him tell the whole story as she did her pre-training squats and pushups. Tony gushed about a lot of things, like how sexy the gray streaks of hair Stephen had were, or the way he loved when Stephen could go from teasing to caring in the span of a second, the way he could smile so warmly that Tony believed was more magical than anything he could conjure with his powers.

When he finally finished baring all, Nat had these wise words of wisdom:

“Why don’t you just sleep with him?”

“Weren’t you listening?” Tony said as whiny as a school girl. “I tried to last night, first of all, an attempt that was quickly shot down because he’s such a gentleman. Secondly, it’s not about the thing between my legs for once in my life.” Nat laughed at that. “I know, I know. But this is something that I want to be real. I want to make it last. Because he’s worth it. Or something.

“You can have your cake and eat it to. They aren’t mutually exclusive. What’s stopping you from fucking him _and_ having something real with him? Great relationships do both.”

“You are no help at all,” he deadpanned.

“I don’t think your situation requires any help, Tony. It sounds to me like this thing you have with Strange is going pretty well so far. I say just let it happen how it happens. Your only problem is that you’re too impatient for that.”

“What are you saying? That I shouldn’t be expecting to have a twenty-plus year marriage with two kids on the fast track to Harvard and maybe three dogs by now?” he joked, and they both chuckled.

“Knowing you, your kids would go to MIT,” Nat pointed out.

“So you have been listening.” Tony smiled, starting to unwrap his knuckles because he was just about done working out for the week. “You’re a very nice friend for listening to my boy problems.”

“Don’t mention it.” Nat walked up to him and gave him a light punch to the side of his arm.

“ _You_ don’t mention it. That was embarrassing enough to say out loud in front of you. I don’t need anyone else knowing that I think Stephen’s eyes are prettier than the stars. That includes Clint.”

“I make no promises,” Nat said, holding up her hands innocently.

“I should have expected as much from a woman who makes her living in double-crossing people. Traitor.”

“It’s a gift.”

On his way out of the gym, who does Tony run into but none other than Doctor Stephen Strange himself, heading in for a spritely jog or something similar.

“Oh, hello, Tony,” Stephen greeted.

“Hey,” he said back. “You just get back in?”

“A few minutes ago, yes. Were you just working out?” Even Stephen couldn’t hide the hint of disbelief in his voice.

“You could call it that,” Tony dismissed, placing a hand on Stephen’s shoulder. “Listen, Natasha is still in there. Keep your head down, and if she asks you to hold a punching target for her, run away as fast as possible.”

Stephen laughed lightly. Was it just Tony, or was he crowding comfortably closer than necessary for a normal conversation? Either way, Tony loved it, feeling Stephen’s body heat radiating forward. Just like the night before when they finally made some sort of feelings known with that kiss.

“Thank you for the warning. I take it you’re leaving then?”

“Headed for the showers to wash off all this sweat I worked up,” Tony answered, not bragging. He patted Stephen’s shoulder and brushed past him. “You can join me later if you want.”

The response to his offer was an amused snort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so fun story. i picked eleven madison park randomly from a list of high-end restaurants on manhattan and just a few days ago my family and i ended up at a restaurant across the park (the same park) from that very restaurant. how serendipitous


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **just a heads up!!!**
> 
>  
> 
> this is the sex chapter. feel free to skip. otherwise have fun ;)

“I don’t think running the scan for a fifth time is going to change the outcome,” Stephen pointed out, more politely than Tony’s impatience warranted.

In his workshop at Headquarters--it was more like a glorified garage with wifi, really--Tony and Stephen sat hunched over a work table. Well, Tony sat hunched. Stephen was next to him, proper posture and all, watching Tony fiddle with his machine.

He adjusted the light mechanism and pressed the start button again. A flash of white went off in the shoebox-sized chamber, there was a whir of computer parts clicking together, and a small ding at the end of the whole ordeal.

_“Scan complete. Main components consist of mummified pine and bronze,”_ FRIDAY announced.

Tony grumbled.

“I told you. It’s the same as the last five scans. The same as the last thousand years, actually,” Stephen chided.

Tony slid open the door for the chamber and pulled out the object of his frustrations: the oblong-shaped, dull ring that Stephen wore when he created portals. His sling ring, he called it.

“You told me this thing gave you the power to make gateways,” Tony stated.

“That’s correct,” Stephen answered like they could have been talking about the weather and not real, tangible, fucking magic.

“So I’m inclined to believe that it has some supernatural properties of its own,” Tony continued.

“A valid assumption.”

“So _why_ isn’t anything showing up on a nano-molecular scan? I even carbon dated it. The only magical thing about it is how fucking old it is.” Tony fidgeted with the thing between his hands.

“Think of it this way,” Stephen said after some time. “If it revealed to you its magical secrets, then it wouldn’t be magic anymore, would it?”

Tony took long seconds to consider the explanation, then finally looked at Stephen with a frown. “I hate that you said that. Never say that again.”

Stephen chuckled at that, making Tony think it was all okay in the long run. He held the ring out to him, waiting for him to take it. Stephen only glanced down before looking back at Tony’s face with an easy smile.

“Why don’t you try it out?”

Tony opened his mouth, then closed it, staring at the ring in his palm. From what Stephen had told him, the ring granted anybody the power to jump from place to place. Even flying at supersonic speeds in his suit wasn’t as fast as teleportation, and the possibility of jumping from New York to California to Germany to China and back was tempting enough. But then he also remembered what Stephen had told him about actually learning how to use it. It took Stephen forever to adapt to magic. He was too impatient and single-minded to get it to work for the longest time. Honestly, it sounded frustrating. And Tony wasn’t about to embarrass himself like that by even trying.

So he handed it back to Stephen with a shake of his head. “I prefer my own toys.”

Stephen pocketed the ring. It clashed with his dark sweater and designer jeans. “It’s an impressive toy regardless.” He nodded toward the nano-molecular scanner. “Quite compact for what it can do.”

“You like?” Tony slapped the top of it like a prized car. “I nabbed the design and basic concept from forensics, did a little tweaking of my own, you know, played around until I was satisfied, and voilà.”

“What, I’m curious, do you need it for?”

“Figured I might need it one day in case a wizard showed up and told me he had a magic ring, only to then later tell me that the ring isn’t magical at all.” Tony shot him a wry smile. “I’m nosy by nature. It’s a curse.”

“What if you wanted to scan something that was too big for the box? Well, I assume you already have a larger one somewhere off the premises.”

“In that, you would be correct. I always have backups of my toys. And backups for the backups. I guess you could call this one the travel-sized version.” Tony opened a side panel of the machine and pulled out a pair of wires. “But--and here’s the kicker--I can set this up so the object in question doesn’t have to fit in the box.” He needed to connect the wires to his arc reactor to get it to work. And yes, he was going to demonstrate to Stephen just so he could have an excuse to get his shirt off.

The article of clothing was dropped in a heap on the work table. Tony stood within the wire’s reach and attached them just under the rim of his reactor. Rolling his shoulders, he tapped on his wristwatch and extended that hand as bits of a shiny red metal glove encased his fingers and palm.

“Now, what to beam up.” Tony glanced around for something that was large and scan-able.

“It’s compatible with your suit?” Stephen said in what Tony was proud to describe as awe.

“Of course,” he answered. “Everything I make is compatible with the original. Call me the Apple of intelligent weapons.”

“Handy,” Stephen supplied.

“Excellent observation.” A light bulb going off, Tony locked his gaze on Stephen and raised his arm, pointing the repulsor at him. “Now hold still, sweetie. This won’t hurt a bit.”

Before Stephen could utter a word, the repulsor emitted a bright light that resembled the flash that went off in the scanning machine. Tony dragged the light down and up Stephen’s rigid frame, then clicked it off so the mechanism could work its own kind of magic.

“I didn’t consent to you scanning me,” Stephen said, sounding like he knew Tony wouldn’t actually care anyway.

“Relax,” Tony dismissed, holding his palm upward so the hologram of Stephen’s body could appear once it was finished rendering. “We can check that you don’t have a surprise case of cancer this way.”

He held the hologram between them. Stephen’s face was illuminated by its blue light, and he furrowed his eyebrows at the miniature version of himself.

There were multiple layers that the scan picked up. They could see the exterior as well as the muscular, cardiovascular, and skeletal systems. Tony tabbed back and forth between them, showing Stephen the inside of his own body. As a doctor, he should have been used to seeing biological diagrams all the time, and it seemed that even a model of himself wasn’t enough to make him flinch.

Tony stopped at the skeletal system and grinned up at Stephen. “See? No cancer.”

“I could have told you that myself,” Stephen said, eyes flickering to Tony’s before going back down to the hologram.

Upon a closer inspection that was brought on by nothing other than curiosity, Tony could see the metal pins in Stephens hands. There seemed a lot of them, too many for such a small part of his body.

Tony knew about the accident. Even without Stephen telling him, which he had on his own volition, Tony had read his files and familiarized himself with the reason his hands shook and bore ugly scars. Stephen seemed so open about his injuries that it shouldn’t have felt like an invasion of privacy seeing the pins on the hologram like this.

But it did. So out of guilt and an opportunity for camaraderie, Tony pushed Stephen’s hologram aside and pulled up one of his own to compare them side by side.

“You have a scan of yourself?” Stephen asked in confused disbelief.

“I do it every once in a while just to make sure everything’s running smoothly under the hood. This is my most recent,” he explained.

“You know, that is what doctors are for.”

“No offence, but there aren’t too many doctors in the world who know how to check on a patient with an engine for a heart.” Tony tapped on the reactor, and the loud, inorganic clinking sound it made punctuated his point. “In fact, there’s only one person who can, and that’s yours truly.”

“It makes you look a little paranoid, having this on hand.” Stephen’s eyes went back to the hologram, and Tony followed his lead.

The point of bringing it up could be shown in his cardiovascular system. Where his heart should have been was a gapid void. The arteries and veins around the cavity have long since healed, but the place of obliteration was still obvious. From this perspective, he was a mess.

“That must have hurt,” Stephen said softly. His hand came up to the hologram, looking like he wanted to touch, but of course his fingers fell through the image. Stephen’s hand landed in the open palm of Tony’s glove. The images, both his and Stephen’s, faded off. Tony looked at the scars on the backs of Stephen’s fingers, then dragged his gaze up to his face. Stephen was wearing a tender expression.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Tony wanted to say he didn’t need any pity, but after a second thought, he realized that wasn’t the look Stephen was giving him. “You’re causing butterflies in the empty cavity where my heart should be.”

Stephen breathed a single laugh through his nose, eyes distractedly glancing down at Tony’s mouth. “Proof that there is a heart in there after all?”

“If you want to call it that,” Tony said, already leaning up to meet Stephen, his free hand sneaking behind his neck.

“Knew it all along,” Stephen murmured against Tony’s lips and then kissed him.

Tony didn’t want it to be as fleeting as the kiss they shared after dinner--although it was a very nice kiss, left him thinking about it all night long--so he angled his head and pulled Stephen closer against him. They were chest to chest, and Tony felt a hand press firmly against the center of his back, holding him in place.

He hummed against Stephen’s mouth, who returned the noise, and deepened the kiss by darting his tongue out. Stephen welcomed it beautifully, parting his lips and following just as eagerly in Tony’s lead.

He scratched his nails through the short hair at the base of Stephen’s skull, using his hand there to pull him closer still. Even shirtless, he craved the warmth Stephen’s body had to offer.

Pulling back from the kiss, Tony moved to press his mouth down the side of Stephen’s neck. Stephen tilted his head sideways in an obvious show that he liked how it felt, and when he spoke, his voice rumbled against Tony’s lips.

“We should get these wires off of you,” he said, and thank god he did, because Tony had forgotten about them.

He stepped backwards, and Stephen’s hands went to his waist, sliding upwards and inwards to his chest. Tony watched his face and found himself caught off guard by the look of softness in Stephen’s eyes.

Stephen stopped, and Tony realized that he was waiting for him to remove the wires himself. Probably to avoid breaking anything or short-circuiting Tony out or something. Tony all but ripped the wires from himself and dropped them carelessly onto the table beside him. His gauntlet dutifully returned to his watch so both hands were free for more important things. When he crowded close to Stephen again, his hands slipped teasingly under his sweater.

“Bedroom,” he said, eyes lidded and mapping out all the places he could mark with his teeth. And then, because he wanted Stephen to like him, he added, “Please.”

The hallways between the work room and his bedroom were mercifully empty. Tony wanted no distractions when he was finally about to check off the sole item on his To-Do list. One wall of the room was all windows looking out into the lawn and down the hillside. It was still sunny out, providing ample light in the space that housed a minimal collection of his bed, en suite, and large mirror just opposite of the windows.

They didn’t need to risk the off chance that someone was parading around the grounds, so as soon as they entered the room, Tony slammed a button on the wall that drew black curtains down in front of the windows. They were doused in shadows, but it wasn’t so dark that Tony couldn’t see Stephen’s bare torso as his hands greedily snatched his shirt.

Stephen walked him back toward the bed as they kissed again, harsh breaths getting caught between them. Because he was as impatient as ever, Tony worked the button and zipper of Stephen’s jeans open as they stumbled backwards. Once they were loosened, his hand disappeared under the waistband and made a satisfactory grab at his ass.

“Polyester?” Tony guessed upon feeling the softest fabric that made up Stephen’s boxers.

“Bamboo cotton, actually,” he answered with much more egotism than was needed.

“Remind me to ask for a link later,” Tony said against his chin, kissing there before moving for his neck again.

On his second pass of Stephen’s throat, Tony bared his teeth, biting and sucking with more abandon now that they were sealed behind his locked bedroom door. Stephen rewarded him with a groan, but Tony was forced to stop when strong hands pushed him onto the bed.

Stephen crawled over him after pausing to leave his jeans on the floor. Tony’s hands flew up to hold both sides of his jaw as they kissed. This time around, Stephen took his time in exploring the inside of Tony’s mouth, making him squirm on top of the sheets and whine in the back of this throat.

He went for Stephen’s boxers, but Stephen caught his wrists and pinned them to the mattress.

“Wait,” he urged, and Tony was glad to learn he wasn’t the only one out of breath. “Let me.”

But instead of removing the target article of clothing, Stephen moved down Tony’s body and mouthed along his collar and sternum. He pressed kisses in a circle around the reactor, a feeling Tony was not used to, so he groaned and arched up into the touch. The motion pushed his hips up into Stephen’s stomach, and the friction in his loose joggers brought to attention the fact that he was already very hard.

He figured he didn’t need to feel embarrassed at how easily he became excited, not with how Stephen’s fingers and mouth reverently mapped different paths all over his chest and abdomen. Those fingers, with all the confidence and none of the tremors, grasped onto the elastic waistband of Tony’s joggers to tug them down. His newly exposed legs fell apart on either side of Stephen’s body, inviting him as close as possible.

Tony lifted his head to stare down at what was happening. Stephen’s lips parted over the fabric of his briefs, kissing and breathing heavily over the tent. Tony let out an “Oh” of pleasure and dropped his head back down into the pillow. He could feel his hair already coming loose from its careful styling. His fingers tangled themselves into Stephen’s locks of brown and gray, tugging a little bit but mostly just feeling and following his head around as it moved.

He didn’t tease for long--thank Jesus--and went to tug Tony’s briefs down just enough to free him. He let out another sound of relief, subconsciously pushing on Stephen’s head when his tongue dragged from base to tip.

“I told you to let me do this,” he reminded. His tone wasn’t harsh or commanding, but Tony’s imagination was creative enough to supplement. He liked the idea of Stephen ordering him around, telling what to do and what not to do, testing Tony to see if he would listen. He liked the idea of it so much, in fact, that he leaked from the tip and tried to push his hips up in search of more contact.

Stephen could read the unspoken words on Tony’s lips, and his eyebrows drew up nonchalantly as he considered the new information.

“Can you let me take care of you,” he began, testing the possibility, “or do I have to hold you down?”

Tony gave him the response he hoped he was looking for by huffing out a breath and smiling at the ceiling, certain that his face was turning red. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

Stephen appeared in his line of vision, hovering above him. For a second, he just looked, but then he lowered down to leave a chaste kiss on Tony’s mouth.

“Remember that one time I cast a silencing spell on you?” he asked fondly.

The memory of it made Tony twitch, if that was enough of a yes. “Do I ever.”

“We can try something similar, if you’re alright with it.” His hand cupped Tony’s face, thumb stroking his cheek.

“I already told you to do whatever you wanted to me.” Leaning into the touch like a cat was not a decision Tony had authorized, but it still happened. He looked sidelong at Stephen, eyelids blinking a few times. “Boy, do I wish I could cast my own silencing spell so you would just shut up and fuck me.”

Stephen pulled away to sit up on his knees, and the loss of his proximity almost made Tony regret sounding so harsh. But it meant that Stephen was about to get on with it, and Tony was all-too excited to see what kind of magic he was about to think up.

“Say anything if it becomes too much for you,” Stephen said cryptically before waving his hand with some sort of finality.

Tony felt no different at first. His legs shifted in their spot resting over Stephen’s thighs, and he opened his mouth to ask just what all that was about. But when he went to move his arms from where they’d been lying uselessly at his sides, he couldn’t.

He tried a few times, each time drawing his eyebrows closer together and a bigger smile on Stephen’s face.

“You look pretty proud of yourself for coming up with this one,” Tony grumbled, outwardly frustrated but inwardly tingling with anticipation.

“Like I said, just let me know when, and I’ll release the spell.”

“You will do no such thing.” Stephen hummed and leaned back down over Tony, nudging their noses together. “Just promise me you won’t use this to leave me here as the butt end of a practical joke for the rest of the Avengers.”

“I will do no such thing,” Stephen echoed with barely a hair’s width of space between their lips. He kissed Tony again, starting slow and working his way into something deeper and messier. Every time Tony wanted to lift his hands and card them through Stephen’s hair, or to hold him close and tease his nails along his back, he was reminded he couldn’t. Without the use of his hands, all he could do was tighten his legs around Stephen’s waist and take what Stephen gave him, slow and torturous as it might be.

Stephen broke from the kiss, leaving Tony’s lips shiny and red. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip to taste what was left of Stephen, who methodically pressed more kisses to this throat. When teeth grazed against his heated skin, Tony closed his eyes and groaned. Just because his arms were held down by magic didn’t mean he couldn’t tilt his head back in pleasure and press himself into Stephen’s mouth to get more of his lips and tongue and teeth.

Hands slid up his bare thighs, causing them to flex instinctively. Hell, Stephen hardly even touched Tony where he needed it most, but he already had him trembling.

It seemed the thought of it spurred Stephen into action, because he finally pulled Tony’s underwear down and off his legs. A palm brushed over the underside of his length, followed by a wet tongue. It mimicked the same path as before, making one long stripe from bottom to top, but this time, Tony couldn’t let his hands fly down and tug on Stephen’s hair like he was itching to do.

Stephen opened his mouth and wrapped his lips around the middle of Tony’s shaft, pulling an involuntary gasp from him. Really, he was acting like he’d never gotten a blowjob before. Tony attributed his virgin-like reactions to the fact that it had been a while, or that he just really liked Stephen. He went with the former because it seemed a little cheesy to admit that sex felt better when he actually had a crush on his partner.

“Jesus, Stephen, fuck,” he sputtered out eloquently. He tried with sad results to push his hips up into Stephen’s slowly bobbing head. But Stephen was so big and nicely built under his clothes that he didn’t even need magic to hold Tony’s hips in place and make him accept the slow pace he set for himself.

After a moment, Stephen pulled off and licked his lips clean of fluids, saliva or otherwise, from his mouth.

“Has anyone ever taken their time with you?” he asked softly, and Tony could hear the pride in his voice that Stephen wanted to be the only one who did.

“They usually want me so badly they can’t help themselves.” It wasn’t just a joke. Most of the time, Tony’s bedfellows were in and out within thirty minutes. Sometimes they didn’t even make it to the bed. That methodology was good for squeezing in a quicky between meetings.

Stephen was rubbing his thumbs into Tony’s hips, and he smiled at the answer. “I’ll have to show you what you’re missing.”

One of his hands circled around the spit-slicked length and dragged up and down lazily. The other hand went lower, fingers pressing his balls and stroking his perineum. Stephen thumbed the slit that leaked more liquid over their skin, eyes never leaving Tony’s face the whole time. He flushed under the attention, choosing to turn his head away as he panted restlessly. What Stephen did wasn’t special. It was just that Stephen himself was special, making Tony much more sensitive than usual.

Fingertips brushed over his hole, causing him to jump and shudder.

“Lube’s in the bedside drawer,” he managed to croak out. He grew even more impatient, now that Stephen gave him a taste of what more was to come.

“Ah, but I’ve already got my own.” Stephen lifted a hand in the air, and a small clear bottle appeared out of nowhere. The smirk on his face told Tony that he was waiting to pull that out of his metaphorical sleeve for some time.

He stopped stroking Tony to prepare his hands. In good time, too, because at that rate he was going to burst before they even got to the good part. He listened to the sharp clack of the bottle opening and closing, then the sound of Stephen rubbing the lube between his palms to warm it.

Tony wanted so badly to touch. Stephen looked like a whole damn meal sitting there on his knees between Tony’s legs. Under his clothes, Stephen was just so… long. Tall and slim with such an appetizing build. A few rogue strands of hair fell down over his forehead, and his handsome face was like a marble statue of concentration. His eyebrows knit together as he worked the lube over his fingers.

Tony wanted so badly to touch, but his hands were still Houdini’d to the bed. He grumbled, shifting his legs, knocking his knee against Stephen on purpose.

Well… his legs still worked.

Turning his head back to see properly, Tony bent one leg and slid his foot up against Stephen’s flexed thigh. It didn’t even garner a response, so Tony stopped beating around the bush and pressed his foot against the obvious tent in Stephen’s impossibly soft boxers. That got Stephen’s head to shoot up, and Tony supplied a self-satisfied grin, wiggling his toes.

“Someone’s feeling a little neglected,” Tony teased. “Why don’t you come up here and fuck my face?”

“If this is some convoluted scheme to get me to unbind your hands, it won’t work.” His hand returned to Tony’s length, working him over faster now that he had proper lubrication. Tony hissed in response, unable to hide how it sent sparks out to his limbs.

“Can’t a man humbly and genuinely offer his throat as a glory hole?”

“Oh, so you were serious,” Stephen teased, and Tony rolled his eyes. “I appreciate the generous offer, but I’d rather not cut this encounter short because of my own… excitement to get going.”

“Low stamina, I understand. Lots of men your age struggle with the same problem. Perfectly norm--ahh!”

Stephen cut him off with a squeeze right under the ridge as punishment. He rolled once indulgently into Tony’s insistent foot before nudging his knees apart to get back between his legs. His other hand went back to his entrance, slick fingers pressing firmly and making Tony want to thrust down to accept them into his body.

“I think you’ll find no issue with my stamina,” Stephen whispered, and holy shit, when had he gotten so close? Stephen’s voice was low and gravelly against Tony’s ear, teeth coming out to graze along the shell with a tantalizing rush of breath. “Try to be patient.”

Tony kissed him and sucked on his tongue. When he felt a finger slide easily into him, he moaned into Stephen’s mouth and wriggled his hips to feel it more. Stephen took his time dragging the finger in and out, twisting it and bending it along the way.

“I’m not patient enough for one fucking finger,” Tony growled. “Give me more.”

Stephen had no choice but to oblige, not with how hungrily Tony captured his lips again. Blindly, he worked a second finger alongside the first as Tony bit and licked his lips. This time Stephen moaned, the sound greedily swallowed down Tony’s throat.

“God, it feels wonderful in there,” Stephen gasped against his mouth.

“Getting impatient?” Tony gritted out. He hoped the answer was yes because every cell in his body was screaming for Stephen to fill him up already. “I know you can do more than that.”

After spreading the first two fingers apart a few times, Stephen added a third and worked Tony into a panting mess. The pressure in such a concentrated area of his body made him feel high, and it was instincts that got him to grind down on Stephen’s hand. Stephen stroked him from the inside. Tony could have torn the sheet below him to shreds if he could just fucking move his hands.

“I’m ready, fuck, I’m so ready,” he all but pleaded. “Just put it in me, for Christ’s sake.”

Stephen nodded--a miracle--and gently withdrew his hand. After discarding his underwear, he took a moment to spread lube over his erection and positioned himself.

The first breach was magnificent. Stephen didn’t stop until he was resting completely flushed with Tony, huffing his breath out, ears red. He was bigger than Tony judged, and the burn was something he welcomed in tandem with the pleasure.

Stephen rested his forehead against Tony’s, barely holding himself up on his arms. Tony’s thighs tightly bracketed Stephen’s body to hold him close and make sure he didn’t go anywhere. They breathed the same air, relishing in the heat between their bodies. Tony could practically taste Stephen even through the gap.

“You’re shaking,” Tony pointed out quietly, and it wasn’t just his hands. He could feel Stephen inside of him, every inch, trembling in what he hoped was a good way.

“You feel amazing,” Stephen whispered back as explanation. He moved his head to nuzzle Tony, pressing kisses to his cheek and ear before having to pull back again for air.

“Must be hard doing magic and keeping your cool at the same time.” Tony turned his head and returned the gestures, taking in the scent of Stephen’s sweat and hair. “You should let my arms go so you can concentrate. That’s my gift to you.”

“Your wish is my command.”

As Stephen shifted above him, Tony felt himself regain autonomy of his hands. His arms flew around Stephen’s back, holding him close. They went up to his hair next, pulling and tugging him down into a harsh kiss. Stephen groaned into it as he began to roll his hips forward. Finally getting where he needed to be, Tony tightened his legs around Stephen to meet his every thrust.

It didn’t take Stephen long to pick up the pace. It was like he was making up for lost time, claiming Tony in just the way he loved. Tony raked his nails down Stephen’s back without caring if he drew blood. He might have actually, judging by the jolt and moan that Stephen gave him in return. Not caring if he needed to breathe, Tony buried his face in Stephen’s neck and bit down on the skin. He sucked a bruise and kept going, and with any luck Stephen didn’t have a spell to over up such a mark so Tony could sit there and stare at it for the upcoming few days.

“Stephen…” Tony called between panting breaths. “Remember what I said about low stamina?”

Stephen slowed his thrusts, but he still reached just as deep, if not deeper. Their bodies collided hard with each roll of Stephen’s hips. He was striking that place inside Tony that made his vision go all fuzzy. “Is now really the time?”

“I’m just trying to tell you that--ahh--that I probably won’t last much longer…”

“You can come, Tony. It’s okay.” The deep timber of Stephen’s voice surrounded Tony and reverberated in his skull.

He was going to reply with a snarky comment-- _why, thank you for the permission, doctor_ \--had it not been for a specific series of events. Tony had reached down with his newfound freedom to grope at Stephen’s ass, which filled his palms quite nicely. When he squeezed, Stephen seemed to like it because he delivered a particularly hard thrust that got Tony, if he already hadn’t been before, seeing stars. That, combined with the sweet sensation of his length trapped between their bodies and grazing against Stephen’s stomach with every movement, made him moan one last time and spill everything he had.

“So good, so good,” he mumbled as he came down.

He was vaguely aware of Stephen murmuring something soft, leaving kisses on his face as he sped up in desperation. Before he knew it, Stephen was pulling out and finishing on top of him. He added to the mess on Tony’s torso that he’d already created himself, then flopped down next to Tony in a heap.

“Hey, what if I wanted that in my mouth?” Tony turned onto his side, head pillowing on Stephen’s outstretched arm.

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” Stephen said after catching his breath. His hair was a mess and Tony loved it. “You can do that next time.”

“You sound pretty confident that there will be a next time. Have you seen the future? Did you fuck your way into curing your own amnesia?” It was just a joke, but Tony sequestered a small shred of hope in his chest.

Stephen laughed gently and shook his head. “I’m just confident in your feelings for me. And mine for you.”

“How romantic.”

Tony traced down Stephen’s cheekbone with his fingertips, then followed the line of his jaw. Stephen watched him contently and tiredly, the smallest of smiles never leaving his lips. After having his hands incapacitated for the longest twenty minutes of his life, he knew he was never going to take for granted his ability to touch Stephen whenever he wanted.

“Tell me all about next time,” Tony said softly.

Stephen rolled closer until their lips touched. “You’ll just have to wait and see what the future has in store for you.”


	8. Chapter 8

They went to shower together, making use of Tony’s incredibly convenient en suite. Stephen’s hands went all over him, gentle and attentive. Every time Tony tried to kiss him with tongue, Stephen would just hum against his mouth and shush him, spreading suds all over his skin in an unhurried daze. It was the perfect scene to initiate round two, and it almost-- _almost!_ \--happened. But Stephen was too much of a gentleman, and Tony surprised himself with how much he liked being handled and taken care of like that.

So he just let the shower be what it was: a quiet moment in the steam with Stephen kissing him drunk. Their sex happened in such a rush that he didn’t really get the chance to explore Stephen’s body, but in the shower he made up for that, fingertips memorizing every curve and dimple.

Their closeness, the way Stephen held him, the warmth, it all had Tony remembering back to Titan. It felt like a lifetime ago. That was when Stephen told Tony about the future. Not just about their love life, but also about all the events that went down between then and now. Stephen told Tony that he was going to be the one to save all those lives from an eternity in the soul stone.

Sensing that Tony spaced out, Stephen nudged his nose against his wet hair. “What are you thinking about?”

“Just things.” Tony turned to look at his face, noting the drops of water that clung to his eyelashes. “Do you happen to remember telling me that I was the hero who brought everyone back?”

Stephen considered it for a moment, then nodded. “That sounds familiar. Why?”

“It’s just odd to me. Because you were wrong. Carol was the one who did it. The future lied to you.”

“Maybe you were the hero in a different reality, and that was the one I told you about.” Stephen’s hand came up to idly wipe water from Tony’s lips.

“I wish you weren’t so cryptic all the time.” Tony hid a growing smile by kissing him. Fourteen million was a lot to consider all at once, and Tony preferred to use that moment to fill all of his senses with Stephen. Those futures were in the past, anyway.

When they exited the bathroom together, Stephen went around the bed and collected his forgotten clothes. Tony pouted a bit when Stephen proceeded to get dressed.

“Leaving me like a regretful one night stand?”

“I have some work I need to get done.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Tony’s temple before heading for the door. “But this was certainly not a one time thing. I’d love to do it again. In fact, I hope we can do it again many times, as long as that’s alright with you.”

“Hey, you could’ve had me again in the shower if it was up to me,” Tony replied, finding something fresh to wear in his closet. “As for the many times bit, I’ll tell you for transparency’s sake that I fully intend to see how far we can take this thing.”

Stephen paused with his hand wrapped around the doorknob. “Is that your special way of saying that you want to try a relationship?”

Tony couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face. “Go, if you must, but I expect you to rendezvous with me back in my bed tonight. And every night, for that matter. Pete can have your old room.”

“I’ll call a U-Haul,” Stephen said with a grin to match, opening the door. “See you tonight.”

…

“You’re glowing, Tony,” was the first thing out of Bruce’s mouth when he walked into the kitchen and laid eyes on Tony chewing on some microwavable macaroni and cheese.

“Am I?”

“Absolutely radiant.” Bruce smiled, standing next to him at the counter.

“Want me to cook you up some delectable mac and cheese? Tonight I’ve paired it with a gorgeous fruity chardonnay.” He nodded toward his glass with his mouth full.

“I’m curious to know what’s got you so chipper.”

“How is it that all of you know when something’s going on with me. I’m trying my best here to maintain an aloof facade.” Tony raised his glass and sipped at it with one eyebrow quirked at Bruce.

“We’re your friends, Tony. We can tell when something’s going on with you,” Bruce said, and Tony pretended not to be hung up on the word ‘friends.’

“I’m touched.”

“So.” Bruce elbowed him in the ribs. “Spill. Give me all the details.”

Why not, right? Bruce was the closest thing to a best friend that Tony had, and he was pretty good at being insightful about life and stuff. Tony set the glass down with a light clink and angled himself toward Bruce to open up his body language.

“I think I have a boyfriend.”

“Oh?” Bruce sounded just like Natasha had, pleasantly surprised and eager to hear more.

“Stephen and I just fucked like an hour ago.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake. Never mind, I don’t want any of the details,” Bruce scoffed and shook his head.

“You asked.”

“What do you mean you _think_ he’s your boyfriend? I thought you knew this, but just because you hook up with someone doesn’t make them your--”

“It wasn’t just a hookup,” Tony was quick to interject. “We talked about it after, kinda. There are feelings involved. Big ones. Hence why I think I’m in a relationship now.”

“Aw, that’s kinda sweet, in its own way. Usually people do the relationship part first before the sex, though.”

“You know how I operate.”

“I’m proud of you.” Bruce slapped him on the back, making him almost choke on a macaroni. There was a big smile on his face. “Strange is a good guy.”

“I like him too.” And before Tony could stop himself, “He makes me want to do healthy shit like writing my feelings in a journal or engage in deep breathing exercises. If he asked me to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to do yoga, I’d say yes and fly us out to India.”

“He sounds like he’s good for you.”

“I sure as hell hope so. Apparently he’s my soulmate or whatever.”

Bruce gave him a look. Tony gestured vigorously with his hand like it was obvious.

“The shortened version is that when Stephen went into the future fourteen million times, he saw us together in almost every one of them.”

“That’s so rom--”

“ _But,_ ” Tony interrupted with a sigh, not like he was bitter about it or anything, “he forgot about all of that when he came back. Selective amnesia or something.”

Bruce paused, hand sliding over Tony’s shoulder and grasping it reassuringly. “That sucks. I bet that made things pretty rocky.” He wore an empathetic look, and Tony wondered what he did to deserve Bruce. “But you got through it.”

“Got through it?” Tony echoed. “He still doesn’t remember. I’m still dealing with that.”

“Well, not to sound insensitive to your problem,” Bruce chose his words slowly, “but why does it matter now if he remembers?”

“It matters because he told me I was going to fall in love with him, and I did, and I had to work from the ground up just to get him to feel the same way without telling him what happened on Titan.”

Bruce smiled and shook his head. “You always put more work in than necessary. What I’m saying is that, why bother worrying about it now if you’re already dating? I’m sure if he could remember the futures he saw, he’d tell you this was exactly how one of them played out.”

Tony took in a breath to say something, only to realize that he didn’t, in fact, have anything to say to that at all. Bruce’s words played over again in his skull, and when they finally took root and started to blossom, he felt a weight lifting off of him.

Bruce was right--he was always right--and Tony told him as much.

“I’m happy to see you happy, Tony.”

“You’re the smartest man I’ve ever met. I’d kiss you, but I’ve got a man now.”

Instead, Tony hugged him, and they shared a laugh between the two of them.

“You know, Brucey, now that this superhero business is behind us, you should really go into counselling.”

…

The first thing Tony registered upon waking was warm skin pressed to his chest and hair ticking his nose. He shifted his legs under the sheet, accidentally knocking against a pair of longer legs in the process. His arm tightened against a solid torso. When he remembered who all those body parts were connected to, and what they had done the night before, he grinned lazily and peppered kisses down the back of Stephen’s neck.

“You’re tickling me.” Stephen’s morning voice was even gravellier than his sober one, and Tony decided right then and there that he would love waking up next to him every day for the rest of his life.

Tony hummed and tiredly ground his hips into Stephen’s delightfully perky ass. “You’re so sexy.”

“I don’t remember setting such a handsy or perverted alarm clock.”

“You signed on for this when you decided to fall asleep next to me last night.” Tony gently brushed his thumb over Stephen’s nipple if for no other purpose than to feel it grow hard under his touch.

“I suppose I should get used to it.”

“You suppose correctly, doctor.” His wandering hand moved downward to grope around between Stephen’s legs.

That prompted him to turn around, and Tony couldn’t keep in the snort at seeing Stephen’s beautiful bedhead.

“You’re just looking for trouble,” Stephen scolded with a grin. He drew closer for a lazy kiss, their legs tangling together and increasing the heat between their bodies. His hand settled on Tony’s cheek, nails playfully scratching at his beard.

“How many times are you gonna be surprised by that before you accept it as your reality?”

“Fourteen million six hundred,” Stephen answered, lips pulling up, “and five.”

“You gonna use that time stone of yours to skip all that?”

Stephen shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to miss a second of this.”

Tony looked back and forth between Stephen’s gray eyes and blinked in awe at how deep they were, stretching across the entire universe and back. Stephen looked at him like he had a heart.

And if Tony Stark did in fact have a heart, he swore it stopped in that moment.

“So… Dinner tonight?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you decide if Stephen actually remembers everything and is just messing with Tony for shits and giggles
> 
> thank you for reading and sticking with this story until the end!! <3


End file.
